


Stalker

by BookOfSimplePlaces



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Cuddling, Dark Thoughts, Domestic Fluff, Everything Is Better With Kittens, Haruhi is So Done, Headaches & Migraines, Kyoya Is A Good Friend, Night Terrors, Noel Is Actually The Devil Incarnate, Pettiness, Protective Nerds, Sarcasm, Sass, Sexual Assault, Sleepy Sweater Aesthetic Kyoya, Stalker, Tamaki Is An Even Better Friend, Tamaki Is The Dad Friend, Teenage Dorks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 84,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookOfSimplePlaces/pseuds/BookOfSimplePlaces
Summary: As Haruhi discovers, stalkers, convenience stores and an exasperated Kyoya mix just as well as oil and water. Who knew a simple, sheepish call for help would have such explosive results.





	1. I'm Trying To Be Serious, I Swear

Amidst the bustle of the busy street, a young woman confidently made her way past the rushing stream of pedestrians. The evening hours were fast encroaching with faint hues of gold and crimson, and she still had a massive to-do list that had needed completing precisely eight hours ago.

Haruhi Fujioka, despite her meticulous planning of every minute detail, had forgotten one specific problem. Or, more precisely, six person-shaped problems- three of which were so debatably insane that Haruhi wondered why she even allowed them to drag her around. Secretly, she marvelled at how Kyoya and Mori had managed to retain their sanity for so long, with all the crazy shenanigans that occurred on an almost daily basis.

Of course, there was also the possibility that, at this point, they were beyond the point of giving even the slightest fuck.

She only wished she could reach that level of impassiveness.

Unfortunately, she was apparently the aforementioned hell spawns favourite person to mess with, and there was only so much Haruhi- like any normal person- could take without snapping. The day she had wandered into the Third Music room and accidentally broke that vase had been utter Hell, as well as the first indication that the universe absolutely hated her. Surprisingly, she found herself unwilling to change that moment for the world. And no, by some miracle, she didn't have brain damage. She'd checked. Three times, to be exact.

A fly buzzed around her head. Absently, she batted it away, waiting for the traffic lights to turn red so she could cross. Beside her, a child was screeching. Blotting out the annoying sound, Haruhi turned her focus on something else.

The Host Club.

On many occasions, the members of had proved that they could be incredibly annoying.

Well, they could be beyond annoying, but there was no need to sweat the details.

They- by which she meant Tamaki and the twins, and on rare occasions, Honey- were constantly invading her privacy and imposing themselves on her. Not to mention the fact that she had never before met anyone who seemed to understand the concept of personal space less than those four. A lot of the time, it was frustrating. Unlike them, she didn't have an abundance of wealth, she remained in Ouran purely because of her intelligence alone. (Of course, if she had such intelligence she could just make other friends, but she figured that by now she was stuck with them. Resistance was futile.) If she didn't want to be expelled, she needed to continue getting perfect grades. Which _totally_ wasn't stressful in the least.

Thankfully, Kyoya understood her struggle.

The two of them had forged an unlikely bond based on mutual exasperation of their friend's actions. Existence itself paled in comparison to the vibrancy of his desire to avoid unnecessary human contact. The only exceptions, it seems, were with Tamaki and herself. And, if he was feeling particularly kind, Fuyumi. So, if she reluctantly mentioned to him that she was falling behind in her studies and needed to be kept away from disturbances- which happened infrequently because Haruhi was prideful and greatly disliked asking for help- then Kyoya willingly offered his home up to her.

The first instance, she'd almost toppled off her chair in surprise.

It'd been after hosting hours. The others had already vacated the Third Music Room in favour of heading home. Kyoya remained behind purely for a peaceful and quiet environment to work in, Haruhi, because she took it upon herself to clean the room. Even though there were cleaners employed, the brunette didn't feel it was fair to leave behind such a mess. Kyoya had, on occasion, ordered her to stop working.

She ignored him, of course.

To his irritation, she was beginning to ignore him much more frequently.

Finally alone, he'd voiced his worries on her health. She had been looking rather pale and sickly, so it was of no surprise to her that the eagle-eyed Shadow King had noticed. It didn't stop him from bluntly blurting, "You look awful." If she had been any other girl at this school, the bespectacled boy probably would've been nailed in the head with some projectile.

Since it was Haruhi, she merely grimaced. "Thanks, Senpai. That's exactly the look I was going for today."

He rolled his eyes so hard they almost popped out their sockets.

"Sit down." he'd instructed, after seeing the subtle sway in her last step.

Too exhausted to argue, she'd settled down, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

She failed.

Miserably.

Even Tamaki, junked up a mixture of Red bull and Crystal Meth- not that Kyoya especially knew what that looked like, though he figured it would likely involve him having to evacuate the surrounding area, change his name and move to America- would have noticed how her leg practically collapsed underneath her.

"Care to explain?"

She survived an impressive grand total of ten seconds under his fiercely disapproving gaze before she cracked. "It's not a big deal," she started, and then petered off when his eyebrows hitched up so high they receded into his hairline.

"You're asleep on your feet, Haruhi."

"I'm not _that_ bad," She attempted to defend, a little pink in the cheeks. Receiving a blank, unconvinced stare in return, the brunette deflated. "I've been staying up later than usual to study. With Tamaki-senpai and the others constantly dragging me out, I'm falling a little behind." Kyoya's lips were pursed, the raven-haired boy coolly mulling this new information over. "It's nothing I can't handle and I won't let it get in the way of hosting," Haruhi quickly assured "So you don't need to worry-"

He cut her off, eyes narrowed and razor sharp as they studied her. "Your health is more important." That shocked her into silence. "The body needs a certain number of hours rest, Haruhi. Continuing this unhealthy pattern will cause problems."

Like a scolded child, the girl bowed her head. "I know, Senpai. I won't made a habit out of it."

"They won't be bothering you for a while," She lifted her gaze, confused. Behind his glasses, steel orbs gleamed determinedly. "I will make certain of it. Do you need to study at any point today or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," she confirmed. "I need to sleep early tonight... I _am_ pretty tired."

Kyoya had nodded, accepting this with ease. "My driver will pick you up, around 10 o'clock." Ignoring her befuddled expression, he continued. "Tamaki wouldn't dare bother me at my own home. Study there. That way, you won't have someone breaking into your house at ungodly hours of the day and I can explain anything you're struggling with. If I'm not busy."

He spoke with such finality that she didn't even bother to protest.

It would be a useless endeavour, after all. She'd been around The Shadow King long enough to know that he could be just as stubborn as her, if not more, to the frustration of everyone around them. The rare times that they fought, sparks would _fly._ It also meant that the other club members would tip-toe around them until they mutually decided to call a cease-fire, so that was most definitely a plus. As mature, responsible young adults, they obviously never staged fights to get some peace and quiet... Okay, it had been _once_ and admittedly, the twins were being little hell spawns and deserved every moment of fear.

And so, one time turned into two.

Two morphed to three, and soon enough, it became a regular occurrence.

They found themselves mutually enjoying the others company. Tucked away from the insanity of the Host Club, it was nice to sit back and relax. Sunday became a day of respite, where they were able to work without worry of interruption.

Aside from the several occasions when a panicked Tamaki or Hikari (with Kaoru in the background), had called Kyoya, voicing concerns over Haruhi's location. After his phone rang for the forth time in one day, an irritated Kyoya had threatened the caller with a visit from his private police force, before realising the recipient was his older sister, Fuyumi.

Other than that, they were left mostly at peace.

Due to their increasing bond it came to no surprise to them when, during the frequent escapades Tamaki conjured up, they began gravitate towards each other to provide a constant sarcastic commentary to keep each other entertained. They'd recently discovered that their sense of humour was remarkably similar and took every opportunity to exploit it, much to the confusion of their companions.

Just today, when The Host Club had arrived unannounced at her house to forcefully take her on another one of Tamaki's half-baked schemes, she and Kyoya had stuck together like glue. From his less than stellar appearance, something which she had privately teased him for, she wasn't the only one taken under duress.

In fact, Haruhi had originally been dressed in nightwear, a pair of ratty shorts and a faded plaid shirt, when she'd opened the door.

It had only been due to the combined efforts of Mori and Kyoya that she hadn't been dragged out in that state of dress. The bespectacled boy's swift intervention left enough time for her to slip back inside, and Mori's protective glare stopped any of the hosts (read; Tamaki, Hikaru or Kaoru) from following her.

The door had been opened ten minutes later by a half-asleep Ranka.

Unfortunately, the hosts had attracted the attention of the entire street and were reluctantly ushered inside. A freshly dressed Haruhi was discovered in the kitchen, one leg up on the counter, fully intending to climb out of the window to escape. She'd been accosted and reluctantly allowed herself to be taken to the carnival.

For the first hour or so, Honey had dragged her around in an excited haze. The small Senpai had been determined to visit every section of the carnival. They hadn't managed it, but his insistence was endearing, to say the least.

She chuckled at the memory, her coat flapping in the light breeze. It carried the sweet scent of flowers from the potted box situated in a nearby shop-front. Content, she pushed away the locks of hair that fluttered in her face.

She almost smiled again as she remembered how Tamaki had taken uncharacteristic joy in travelling on the subway. Kyoya, as expected, hadn't been all too pleased. He'd been in a far more pleasant mood on the return journey, thankfully, as she found herself crammed next to him. Then again, there was the fact that Kyoya seemed to genuinely like her far more than everyone else. (Tamaki was unfortunate enough to be his travel buddy on the journey up. He'd exited the train pale and shaking. Neither boy disclosed the events and everyone else had enough self-preservation not to ask.)

The boys had offered to escort her home from the train station. After trading a secret eye-roll with Kyoya, she had politely declined.

Which is why she found herself wandering the streets alone.

Pausing to take a peek in a nearby window, Haruhi was almost immediately knocked flat on her ass. Her bag sprawled next to her, phone clattering between her legs. A middle-aged man back-peddled, looking far more shocked than he was entitled to be, little mousy eyes widened comically. "S-Sorry!" He stuttered, flitting into the crowd without a backwards glance.

"Weird..." The girl murmured, brushing the dirt from her clothes, ochre orbs narrowing in thought.

She could've swore she recognised that man.

Wincing, the girl replaced her thankfully undamaged phone and continued walking, knee sore from where it'd slammed painfully into a nearby lamppost. It'd surely bruise in the morning, but that was a problem for another day.

The cogs in her mind abruptly stopped turning. A file from her memory was tossed out, contents free for her to peruse. If she recalled correctly, that man had been tying his shoelaces just a few meters away when she'd departed from the Host Club.

That, in itself, could have been a perfect coincidence.

But he'd also been sitting across from Kaoru on the train- she'd spotted him when the redheaded twin had leaned across compartments to offer her some gum. (She'd accepted, because who didn't love gum.) Before that, he'd been waiting in the line opposite as she and the Host Club had bought their tickets, Honey swinging from her arm like a hyper-active five-year-old. And, delving deeper, glimpses of him flashed throughout the day, most notably when she and Kyoya had lounged in the cool shade of a fountain, waiting for the rest of the group to find them, eating Taiyaki that he had bought in a rare act of kindness. That kindness didn't stretch to anyone else, apparently. Tamaki had sulked for a full ten minutes. As usual, nobody took much notice of him.

Presented with this new information, Haruhi stilled, fingering the phone in her pocket with trepidation.

Dread curled in her stomach.

She had an incredibly bad feeling about this and she was entitled to listen to it.

Darting forward, the girl swiftly weaved between the stream of people.

Her eyes were drawn to the wing mirror of a parked car. In the reflection, she saw her eyes, wide and flashing like a little frightened fae. Like a stone, her stomach sunk to her feet when she caught a familiar flash of black. The man was a couple of paces behind, easily keeping up with her. Furrowing her brows, the girl steadied her breathing. Her grip tightened around her phone, squeezing hard enough to hurt. Should she call someone? Was this really worth bothering someone over?

"This can't just be a coincidence." Quickening her pace, she made it an entire block before noticing him in the glare of a shop window.

As any intelligent, rational person would do, Haruhi calmed herself with a slow breath, looked both ways and crossed the street.

"Problem solved." She'd announced, pleased with herself.

She was sorely mistaken.

The same beady eyes followed her every move, once again from directly behind her.

Searching for absolutely anything else to do, the girl stepped on her laces, smirking in a self-satisfied way as she leisurely stooped down, taking her own sweet time to re-tie them. Elation soared in her heart as, upon rising, she initially failed to spot him. Cloaked in the shadows of an archway, he was casually flicking through his phone, very obviously peering over the top of the device at her.

Choking back a startled gasp, she merged with the crowd, weaving so erratically she hoped to lose him. No avail. Having at least a foot height advantage on her, he could follow the bobbing of her russet head with ease.

Breaking into a run, she bolted away, slipping with snake-like swiftness around other innocent pedestrians. In her haste, she'd almost bowled over a small child. In her defence, the little dumbass had continued skipping _towards_ her, so she couldn't feel too sympathetic. Thankfully, the child's mother had pulled her out of the way just in time, so her conscience could be eased.

Ducking into the nearby convenience store, Haruhi hastily made her way to the back of the shop, hunkering down behind one of the largest shelves and hoping she didn't look too suspicious to security.

Now _really_ wasn't the time to get thrown out of the store.

With trembling hands, which she glared at for a good few seconds as if it would magically stop them, Haruhi pulled out her phone, calling her home number. She was hoping that at least some deity out there would take pity on her, and that her father would answer. When she was greeted with the sweet tone of her answer machine, the brunette unloaded every curse in her extensive vocabulary, trying a further three times.

Her father's cell phone garnered exactly the same response.

She called twice.

The last call garnered a voicemail of swearing for a full five seconds, before Haruhi realised and hung up.

Blankly, she scrolled through her contacts, deciding it would be a cold day in Hell before she requested help from Tamaki. Despite him proving on several fleeting occasions his ability to be responsible at times, Haruhi didn't trust him to not immediately go and attempt to punch the guys lights out, possibly getting stabbed in the process.

No, the murder of her friend was not something she wanted to witness today, previous thoughts of intentionally carrying the same act out herself aside.

Now, with that in mind, the twins were certainly out of the question. Hikaru was far too hot-headed to act rationally, he'd blow up in exactly the same way, and Kaoru, while being far more mature than his brother, would certainly be just as furious. With him, there were certain lines that should never be crossed. This, likely, was one of them.

That left Honey, Mori and Kyoya.

The girl hesitated.

Honey and Mori lived considerably further away from her than Kyoya did. And how did she know this? As ever, there was a long story involving Tamaki and intense murderous urges, but that's for another time. Distance, of course, meant it would take longer for them to reach her. And, while they were both experts at martial arts, it would mean fuck all if she was already dead in a ditch at that point.

As attractive as that sounded, Haruhi wasn't actively seeking death.

Which, of course, was why she was planning on calling Kyoya, one of the Host Club's resident demons.

To hell with it, she thought, as she dialled Kyoya's number. It couldn't be any worse than what she was already facing. Oh, how fate loved to screw with her.

The Shadow King's muffled, long-suffering voice emerged over the line despite the hand he must have clasped over the receiver as he answered an unintelligible question. "I'll take a tall glass of Hemlock, thank you. No ice." He then promptly choked on his spit when he realised his blunder. "Water," he corrected, quickly. "I meant water."

(He didn't mean water. Water didn't even _sound_ like what he meant. Pass it on.)

He recovered after a short breath. "Tamaki, I believe I've made it _abundantly_ clear that you're not to call me during dinner for _any_ reason short of death-"

"I'm not Tamaki-Senpai, if that helps."

A beat of pure, suffocating silence. Then a solemn, "What's happening?"

"Death, likely."

"Haruhi." The sternness of his tone almost made her giggle, and now really wasn't the appropriate time to be giggling.

"You sound so serious."

"Usually you only call me if it's an emergency," she didn't bother to comment on the fact that Tamaki and the twins appearing at her house apparently counted as an emergency. "So, what's wrong?"

"I'm being stalked by a creeper who may or may not be debating the best way to wear my skin as a dress." Kyoya awkwardly cleared his throat. She heard a click, and receding footsteps as he excused himself from the table. "Was I on speaker?"

"Nope," She didn't think she'd ever heard Kyoya say _nope_ before, much less pop the _p._ The world certainly was strange. "Spoke loud enough that you might as well have been, though. Where are you?"

"In that big convenience store near my house. The one we all went to together- don't think I didn't notice you all. I did. I just have an amazing talent of ignoring absolutely everything that takes too much effort to deal with. Currently he's ghosting outside, waiting for me to come out."

Low murmurs emanated on the other end of the line. A few choice words later, Kyoya was back. "Stay inside."

"Oh, _should_ I now? Because if you hadn't have said that, I was totally going to confront him."

"That was some industrial level sarcasm."

"Honestly, I think it's the only reason I'm not crying right now." Haruhi admitted, in a whisper. Poking her head around, she saw a familiar face enter the store. _"Fuck me,"_ she hissed, ignoring the resounding crash from the other line.

"Excuse me?" He barely managed to keep a measured tone.

"Sorry," she wasn't sincere in the slightest. "Pretty sure he's in the store."

"Perfect. Are you hiding?"

"Uh," Haruhi flushed at the strange looks she was earning from fellow shoppers. One woman blatantly pulled her child closer. "Yeah. But, not very well."

"Well, isn't that excellent." He muttered. "Can you see him?"

"He's hovering near the counter."

"Keep an eye out and tell me if he moves."

The brunette hummed in acknowledgement, doing as instructed. Several tense minutes passed before she found herself ducking back to safety. "The target is on the move," she reported, with her best spy-voice.

Kyoya sounded completely unamused. "Be serious."

Killjoy.

"Hey," she protested, quietly. "If I'm being stalked I might as well enjoy it."

Haruhi imagined the boy was pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing wearily. "Is he coming towards you?"

She deliberated it for a long moment. "Somewhat."

"Somewhat?"

"He hasn't seen me yet," she offered, to clarify. "He's just sort of wandering around the shelves near the entrance. He might be looking for me, I'm not too sure. There's no way in hell I'm checking, though. I've barely managed to stay hidden this long."

"Why don't you try the bathroom? At least you'll have a locked door between you." Kyoya would have called it a precaution, which coated the entire situation in so much sugar that Haruhi felt her pancreas kill itself. Despite that, she still followed his suggestion and found herself locked in the disabled cubicle.

"This is quite possibly the worst place to be at this current point in time."

"Doesn't matter, you won't be there for long. I'm almost there."

She breathed a sigh of relief, before baulking. "Wait, you're _what-_ The hell you doing driving that thing like a freaking Hot Wheels?"

She could almost see Kyoya shrug with the epitome of nonchalance. "Blame my driver."

A cool voice replied, "I was informed that it was a matter of life and death."

She smirked like a cat who'd just caught a mouse. This information would be filed away for later, with the rest of her blackmail- er, gently persuasive material.

"Haruhi?"

"Still alive," she replied, humorlessly. "For now, that is."

"Reassuring." A slamming door. "I'm outside. Be there in a second." She could hear the quiet din as he jogged through the store.

"You're going to walk into the women's toilets?"

"That is exactly what I'm planning."

She snorted, perfectly unconvinced. Until the door creaked open and Kyoya confidently strode his way past a gasping woman like he owned the place, rapping on the door of her cubicle. "Haruhi. Are you alright?"

Utterly amused, the girl was completely unabashed at the way his hands carefully cupped her cheeks, tilting her head side to side to search for any injuries. "I'm fine, Kyoya-senpai," she assured, brushing away his probing fingers. She took notice of the bag slug across his body, the bulk resting firmly over his hip. "Just shaken up. Did you see him on your way in?"

"To be perfectly honest, I was too busy mentally preparing myself to come across your mangled body to keep an eye out for some creeper. Why you thought going silent like that was an intelligent idea is completely beyond me. Come on, we're getting out of here."

Tentatively, she took the hand he offered her. His skin was smooth, unblemished- just like she'd expected, warm beneath her touch. Together, they stepped out of the bathroom. She unconsciously fisted her free hand in his sleeve upon catching sight of the beady-eyed man.

"That's him?" Kyoya murmured, under the guise of tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She nodded frantically. He felt her flinch against him when the man noticed them and stepped out of the store, lingering near the exit. As they approached him, Kyoya didn't look nearly as alarmed as he should.

"Trust me," he whispered in what was probably the sweetest, most gentle tone she'd ever head from the boy.

"I do."

Once they were outside, she didn't dare breathe.

"You're the one that's been bothering Haruhi, correct?" The bulk of Kyoya's body blocked her from the man, like a tall, unwavering shield. He smiled his typical, charming smile. Haruhi could feel frostiness of his glare from where she was standing. "Of course, you don't need to confirm anything. I'm already perfectly aware of the fact that you've been stalking her. Come near her again and I will personally rip your arms from your body."

"Go ahead and try," The man challenged, grinning darkly as he lunged-

Only to reel back, screaming his throat hoarse as Kyoya mercilessly unloaded a full bottle of pepper spray in his face. The bespectacled boy carefully untangled his hand from hers to turn her head into his chest, successfully shielding her from the sting of the spray as he returned the now empty bottle to his bag.

"That wasn't very smart, now, was it?" If his flaming eyes were any indication, The Shadow King had traversed past pissed off and settled comfortably on absolutely livid. Snapping a picture or two with his phone, Kyoya smiled coolly. "I'll be reporting this incident to the police. This picture will be spread around my own private police force for them to take immediate action should you appear within a five mile radius of Haruhi. I trust you'll see sense. If not, that lesson will be learned _very_ quickly, I assure you."

With that, Kyoya carefully weaved his hand in hers and guided her to his car. In the safety of the back seat, a red faced Haruhi finally started breathing again.

"Did you just-"

"I did." He confirmed, with a cocky little nod.

"With pepper spray?"

"All of it."

She collapsed into hysterical laughter, halfway between tears of fear and mirth.

After watching her intently for a long time, concern marring his features, Kyoya lowered his head until he was only a moment away. "Are you okay?"

She tried to ignore the way his breath kissed her face warmly. "I was terrified. Still am, actually."

"That makes two of us, then."

" _You_ were scared? That's hard to believe."

His expression softened. "I'm not made of steel."

"That's true. You're much softer than you let others believe." She piped up, smiling. "Thank you, Senpai."

He returned the pressure on his hand with a affectionate squeeze of his own. "Anytime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're just nerds, really. Absolute bloody nerds  
> But we love them anyway
> 
> (Cross-posted on FF.net)


	2. You Won't Believe This False Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two nerds cool off after the events of last night the best way they know how: taking the absolute piss out of one another.

The din of indistinct chatter rose up around Haruhi, who was leaning idly against her table. Club hours had been underway for some time now, and from various tables, the Hosts were entertaining guests… Except for Kyoya, who opted out of hosting under the guise of finishing work. (Read: He became the unholy offspring of Satan himself, and promised death upon anyone who disturbed him. Everyone had enough self-preservation not to protest).

She envied his skills.

Greatly.

At this point, she wouldn't be joking when she said she would kill to sit tucked away in that secluded corner, only occasionally conversing with the girls waiting for their slot.

Haruhi, despite outing herself as a girl to the rest of the school (because, really, it was so troublesome having a host-wide kidnapping staged every time the guys accidentally referred to her with female pronouns), still found herself being requested. She and the Hosts had thoroughly discussed the move and were all prepared for her returning to her previous errand runner status, so Haruhi had been pleasantly surprised when she had been accosted and forced down on the seat by her usual customers.

Normally, she and the girls would make small talk, or she might aid with difficult homework. She even tutored some girls there, and offered advice to those struggling with all kinds of problems.

Contrary to what she expected, her grand reveal didn't actually cause much backlash at all. Sure, most were more than a little shocked. Others were angry, which was to be expected. But when Renge of all people loudly pointed out that Haruhi herself had never technically _lied_ about her gender, she just didn't ever bother to correct those who had assumed she was male, most of the strife died down.

She still received the occasional glare or spiteful comment, especially as she chose to continue wearing the male school uniform. (Aside from the price of a female uniform costing more than her apartment's mortgage, her current attire was exceedingly more comfortable than the garish yellow monstrosity). Even then, the brunette took it all in her stride, selectively pretending not to notice how a certain demon-like friend of hers would clear up those little misgivings fairly swiftly.

Currently, she found herself with no customers.

It had been a terribly slow day to begin with, making Haruhi regret even bothering to wake up in the morning. (Of course, it wasn't like her whole education depended on her actually attending or anything).

Swamped in almost a week's worth of work, Haruhi would much rather be buckling down at home behind her desk, but no, apparently every divine being was against her today. Because here she was, trapped and utterly bored out of her mind, yet if she even dared to try and study while hosting hours were in session, she'd end up with a fate far worse than death.

She gave a little resigned sigh, and then whisked herself into the back room to brew a fresh pot of tea, systematically visiting each table in turn to refill their cups.

It was better than mindlessly lingering around, she figured.

Her first stop was with the two eldest members of the club. They were, as always, her safest bet. Somehow Honey managed to find the breath to flash a smile with the brightness of a supernova _and_ thank her in the middle of whatever gripping story he was re-telling.

Mori, ever the silent one, displayed his gratitude by inclining his head slightly, grey eyes soft and warm. Though his lips only twitched upwards the slightest amount, the movement was easy enough for her to spot.

Honey, observant as ever, had noticed her tension. While the guests were distracted by a rare moment of speech from Mori, his fingers fleetingly pulled at the edges of his lips, mouthing a cutesy little "Smile for me?". She did, and he seemed satisfied that she wasn't upset, for he let her move on.

Setting towards Hikaru and Kaoru, she had to force herself not to roll her eyes. As usual, they were partaking in their twincest shtick, their clutch of girls eagerly lapping up every moment.

Honestly, the popularity of those two really bewildered her sometimes. She could hardly see what was so appealing. Nonetheless, she pushed away her thoughts.

Those little devil twins, she knew, were most likely going to try and use her to antagonise Tamaki. _Try_ being the operative word, which is why she headed for their table regardless.

She was not putting herself on a platter for them. Any and all possible forms of death would be downright _merciful_ compared to that torture, and while she had next to no patience around the majority of the Hosts, she was fairly certain she hadn't quite reached that point.

Yet.

There was still time, after all.

Luckily for her, she was well aware that her safety was assured solely due to the presence of the Shadow King, who had halted work and was watching her every movement. He had already deduced her plans, it seemed, and sought to squash the wildfire before it even started. The moment either twin even _attempted_ something potentially unbecoming while in the company of guests, they would notice Kyoya's positively feral expression and electively decide it was in their best interests to leave her be.

In theory, at least.

They could prove to be rather unpredictable at times.

Thankfully for her and whatever semblance of patience she had left, Hikaru's eyes had a devilish spark from a grand total of half a second, before the ominous intent was detected. He whipped back around like his life depended on it (which it did), voice just a tad higher than usual, leaving Kaoru utterly bemused.

Haruhi, finding this utterly hilarious, lingered even longer than necessary, enjoying the way he insistently avoided eye contact with her, lest he unwittingly unleashed the Shadow King's wrath. After warding off numerous attempts to get her to cosplay in the past week alone, revenge came in the form of this cruel and unusual punishment, which she certainly was not above exploiting.

After several extended moments of suffering, Haruhi moved on, satisfied for the time being.

Tamaki was next.

The blond self-proclaimed prince was talking in an animated fashion. Tamaki was a hand-talker. She's only really noticed it recently, but he tended to accentuate his words with all these gestures that became more wild the more excited he was.

In that moment, he seemed relaxed, so she approached.

She'd barely made it two steps in his direction before he whipped around, eyes locking on her figure, making a move to stand up. At that point, Haruhi seriously began pondering whether he had some kind of radar programmed in his head. It was actually somewhat unnerving how he seemed to instinctively know whenever she was near.

Haruhi, wisely, decided to hop aboard the Nope train to FuckthatVille, and promptly changed direction.

Fearing the fourth infamous glomp that week, she changed her focus to Kyoya (it would be a cold day in Hell before she called for Mori-senpai's help _again_ after Tamaki became a little too clingy for her taste), who was typing once more, a pronounced crease of concentration between his brows.

"Would you like tea, senpai?"

Yes, she was stalling. Sue her. Tamaki was acting like a kicked puppy and that was really not something she wanted to deal with right now.

"What kind is it?"

In that moment, she wanted to bow down and worship the ground Kyoya Ootori stood upon. Not only had he noticed her evasion tactics, but he was _willingly_ aiding her.

(Kyoya's been replaced by an alien clone. Pass it on).

"Chamomile."

Interest piqued, Kyoya lowered his screen, giving her his undivided attention. An impressive feat, in itself. "That would be nice."

The alien clone theory became all the more plausible when he actually physically passed her the saucer and cup, rather than making her lean across the table to collect it herself. She filled the cup to the brim, watching the steam rise in dramatic swirls.

Kyoya, probably thinking he was being subtle, was watching the blond out of the corner of his eye, gaze just to her side.

Haruhi handled the fragile china like it was a newborn baby (who was she kidding, she'd probably still end up accidentally dropping it even then), waiting until the exact moment she was certain Kyoya had a firm hold before letting go. Only, she very quickly found herself secured there by a gentle hand around her wrist.

"... Kyoya-senpai?"

His eyes left her disarmed, dissecting every section of her face. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

Well, there went the alien replacement theory. Only her Kyoya could possibly be _that_ observant. She hardly even had bags under her eyes, goddamn it. They were subtle enough that even Tamaki's Mama Bear instincts hadn't kicked in, for crying out loud. How could he, out of everyone on this entire planet, Middle-fucking-Earth and bloody District 12, possibly see them?

But of course, he was Kyoya, house of Ootori, first of his name and determined heir to the throne, proud conqueror and most extra of them all.

"Enough." She replied, grudgingly.

"Define _enough_."

Kyoya wasn't forcing her. A shocker, really. Because, _of course_ , he was _such_ a _heartless bastard_ in reality. Sarcasm aside, if she wanted to, she could have very easily decided not to answer and tugged her arm free. Instead, she allowed her shoulders to relax. "I was a little restless. I woke up once, _maybe_ twice, but I can still function just fine."

"Nightmares?"

"Nightmares." She confirmed, quietly.

"Do you… need to talk about it?"

Kyoya, honestly, looked as though he would rather down a bottle of cyanide, so she decided to give him an out. "I'm alright. They weren't that bad."

The raven-haired boy accepted this with alarming ease. "I'm glad. You should relax tonight." He instructed. "Read a book maybe, but I'd advise avoiding anything that's stressful."

"Kyoya-senpai, I can't." She cut in, with an exhausted sigh. "As much as I'd like to, I'm way too behind at the moment. Especially because of yesterday. Dad had me talking to the police for quite a while after you left. I'm practically drowning in everything I still have to do."

"While that may be true, it'll be no good if you overwork yourself, will it?"

_Like he could talk_ , she scoffed, internally. The sharpening of his gaze was almost enough to make her believe he could hear her thoughts. _If so, this was her, changing her mind._

"Well, I suppose you're right." She mused finally, absently tapping a finger against her chin as she mulled his words over. "A little break wouldn't hurt too much."

"If you still find yourself feeling tired and overworked tomorrow, I'll excuse you from Hosting. It wouldn't be too difficult to convince Tamaki that you were feeling under the weather and went home. With help from Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai, it'll be even easier to keep that idiot and the twins in check."

She blinked. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course. With your current level of health, your hosting skills would be subpar at best." Haruhi rolled her eyes. "Take a warm bath and drink some calming tea before you sleep, that should help, even if only a little."

The brunette hummed in acknowledgement, smiling when Kyoya released her. Admittedly, that suggestion _did_ sound very appealing. "I'll be sure to do so."

Disguising their not-so-secret conversation by taking a long sip of tea, Kyoya nodded with satisfaction. "You're getting better."

"It's only natural." She replied, with a chuckle. "It's hard not to pick up a few things around here."

"I'll say." He smiled pleasantly, stealing a glance at his watch, and giving a small hum. Haruhi only blinked, slightly bewildered, when he closed his laptop with a sharp snap. "Time really has flown by."

"Oh." Realisation dawned on her. "It's closing time already?"

Kyoya took up the role of making the announcement to the occupants of the room, charming host smile in place. With reluctance, the girls filtered out in dribs and drabs, calling dramatic farewells to their favourite hosts as they went. Haruhi, for one, couldn't have been more pleased to see them go. The sooner they left, the sooner she could clean up and leave, hopefully before she got pulled into another of the twin's antics.

The moment the doors closed, Kyoya's expression schooled into disapproval. Without even the need to turn around, he just _knew_ she was edging towards the nearest table. Seeing his face, she froze, guilty. "I need to clean up."

"Do you now?"

A trap, if she ever saw one. "Well, who else will?"

Her arms were crossed, looking smug at how she'd left him floundered, if even for a fleeting, barely noticeable moment. "Someone else."

"That's not very specific. Do you actually have someone in mind?"

She was frowning.

So was he.

He thought he could win.

How utterly foolish of him.

"Tamaki and the twins." He said, finally. "They caused quite a ruckus earlier, it's only suitable punishment."

"You're going to trust them to clean. _Together_?" She didn't look entirely convinced by the idea. "That's a disaster just waiting to happen. Do you want everything to break?"

"Don't concern yourself with it. I can't allow such a waste to occur, so I will supervise them."

"Rather you than me."

He said nothing, only escorted her to collect her belongings. Likely to make sure she was actually leaving, rather than to be chivalrous. They left the back room side by side, Kyoya holding her bag hostage, chatting animatedly. As they headed for the door, Tamaki stared at them as if they'd both suddenly sprouted another head.

In an instant, he'd appeared beside them (Tamaki can apparently teleport now. How she dreaded this new development), gaze locked on the petite brunette. "Where are you going?"

"Hell, obviously."

Both boys stared at her for a moment, before Kyoya chose to clarify. "Home."

"Why do you ask?" Haruhi added, as an afterthought.

"But- But you never go home this early!"

She shared a secret smile with Kyoya, before collecting herself. "I have some things I need to do, Tamaki-senpai."

Tamaki was wearing that look again. The one that made her feel like she'd brutally murdered his entire family. "You can't leave now," he whined petulantly, which directly translated as _I wanted to spend more time with you, so you have to stay._

As he was unwittingly blocking their path, it wasn't exactly like Haruhi could slip past him. And with the fuss he was making, it was only a matter of time before the devil twins spotted an opportunity for mischief. Evidently having similar thoughts, Kyoya addressed the blond with a bored tone. "Tamaki, are you aware that you blocking the door is a fire hazard? Imagine what would happen if one were to break out. Do you want Haruhi to suffer?"

The instant he sprang away, wailing incomprehensibly about wanting to 'save' his precious 'daughter', Kyoya shoved her bag at her and Haruhi darted forward, tossing a quick farewell over her shoulder.

Tamaki's loud cries followed her as she jogged down the corridor without looking back.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Unlocking her door, Haruhi pulled her shoes off, setting them neatly out of the way. There was no point, since her father would most likely throw his shoes messily on top, yet she did so nonetheless, in the hope that one day he might follow her example… And _she_ was supposed to be the child here.

Finding her phone was practically the equivalent of going through Narnia, with all her books crammed in her bag. She'd felt it vibrate at some point during her commute, but hadn't had the energy to begin the hunt on a moving train.

Luckily, it wasn't too important. Just Kyoya asking her to let him know that she got home safely. It was a relief to know he hadn't yet offed himself due to Tamaki's incessant fretting. Taking pity on the boy, she typed out a quick reply where she teased him for succumbing to the said blond's dramatics.

With the laundry sorted and packed in the washing machine, Haruhi was brewing some cocoa in the kitchen when her phone buzzed.

Three words, brimming with exasperation.

**Kyoya:** _You owe me._

Haruhi could almost see the pained gleam in those stormy eyes of his. Rolling her own doe eyes, she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from shooting back a playful demand for him to add it to her debt. However tempted, she knew that right now, he would only take it as an invitation.

Still, that didn't stop her from replying coyly.

 

> **_What happened to that thoughtfulness from earlier?_ **

 

There wasn't even enough time from her to put her phone back down. Already, it had received another message. Apparently Kyoya was resorting to the old faithful "Messaging Over Line- don't disturb unless you actively wish death" tactic to deter Tamaki from clinging.

**Kyoya:** _It's now non-existent. Just like my patience._

Suitably amused by his plight, Haruhi burnt her lips with a dreamy gulp of her beverage.

 

> **_You had patience to begin with?_**
> 
> **_Shocking_ **

 

A cool breeze entered through the windows as she opened them each in turn. It was refreshing, smelling faintly of freshly cut grass and flowers. After changing into casual clothes- loose fitting shorts and a flowy top that was exceedingly comfortable (one of the only gifts from the twins she was willing to wear)- Haruhi rifled through her bookcase, only pausing when her phone vibrated once more.

**Kyoya:** _Admittedly, it's not my most prominent quality. Especially now._

 

> **_Try not to kill any of them, alright, senpai?_ **

 

**Kyoya:** _It's becoming increasingly more difficult with every passing second. If I discover I went to all this effort for nothing, I will not be pleased._

She shook her head, unable to resist teasing him.

 

> **_When are you ever?_**
> 
> **_And have no fear, your struggle was not in vain. I'm relaxing, just like you said_  **

 

Tucked up on her couch, with a good book and a warm drink, Haruhi managed to read an entire chapter before bothering to check the device once more.

**Kyoya:** _For some reason, that doesn't exactly reassure me. Don't tell me you're in the midst of cleaning your entire apartment._

 

> **_What would you do if I said I was?_ **

 

**Kyoya:** _Commit mass murder._

She honestly wouldn't be surprised if he followed through with that threat. If she were in his position, she'd definitely be at the end of her tether by now.

 

> **_I'm reading Pride and Prejudice. Is that relaxing enough for you?_ **

 

Eyes straying to the worn, much loved paperback novel, Haruhi smiled, flicking to the next page. It had been her mother's, the name inked delicately onto the front page. Reading it always made her feel connected to her mother, as if she'd left a piece of her soul beyond, bound into those very pages.

Her phone lay discarded at her feet, yet she had no time to lose herself in the tale before it was chiming again.

**Kyoya:** _I wasn't aware that you liked English Classics._

 

> **_The Shadow King was unaware of something? The world must truly be ending._ **

 

The boy didn't respond for almost half an hour. Haruhi, who was totally engrossed with reading, didn't even notice until she finally received a reply, noticing how much time had passed.

**Kyoya:** _Tamaki has officially been ended._

 

> **_Oh no_**
> 
> **_What'd he do this time?_ **

 

**Kyoya:** _His hit-list consists of several very expensive tea cups and an antique stool._

His irritation was practically tangible. Haruhi rolled her eyes, bustling around the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

 

> **_Didn't I warn you not to let him clean up?_ **

 

**Kyoya:** _Don't rub it in._

 

> **_You didn't actually kill him, right?_ **

 

_**Kyoya:** Of course not. His death would be a terrible blow to the Host Club._

 

> **_And you obviously couldn't allow that to happen_  **

 

**Kyoya:** _Naturally. However, he is paying for a replacement and his next themed idea will be coming from his own pocket. I believe that should be enough incentive for him not to be so careless in the future._

 

> **_L_ _ooks like I'm not the only one who needs to relax_ **
> 
> **_Take some aspirin and rest up a little_ **

 

Because he would surely need some after whatever fresh Hell he must have experienced in Music #3-

 

> **_And try not to stay up until ridiculous O'Clock again_**

 

Sometimes he worried her just as much, if not more, than she worried him, with his relentless stubbornness and disregard for anything he didn't deem important (which, alarmingly, had previously included his own health).

**Kyoya:** _Noted._

A pause, where she could see him typing, deleting and re-typing a message.

**Kyoya:** _Let me know if anything happens. You're free to call if you have any worries._

Her gaze softened.

 

> **_I'll be sure to do so_**
> 
> **_Thank you, Senpai_  **

 

**Kyoya:** _Any time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haruhi definitely has a mug of Kyoya as his contact picture. She would forever deny that she took it, but deep down, it really was her, and she'd do it again in a heartbeat  
> (Kyoya has sushi for hers. He'd claim it was the default picture, but lets face it, we all know he lyin')


	3. Hey, One Question: What The Hell?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruhi has a heart-stopping near-death experience, and Kyoya really isn't subtle.

The next day, Haruhi returned to the Host Club, feeling far more refreshed. Kyoya, eagle-eyed as ever, noticed the difference almost immediately. She could tell the bespectacled boy was pleased, by the way he allowed Tamaki to cajole him into the two of them Hosting together.

And, for all that he complained about the blond, he did enjoy it.

Kyoya, she realised, with a fond shake of her head, could be just as much as a dork as the rest of them.

Hosting hours ended as they always did, with tears from the girls, and sweet nothings from the Hosts, promises of further meetings galore. The twins didn't bother her; they sat tucked up in the corner, distracted by a new game. Tamaki, surprisingly, didn't bother her either.

She was in a good enough mood to settle down with Honey and Mori, eating a slice of cake the blond boy offered. Kyoya, for once, wasn't on his laptop. Tamaki had dragged him over to the low table, where they sat on the floor, (Kyoya Ootori lowering himself to the standards of a commoner? The world must be ending!), pouring over the papers spread haphazardly across the surface, searching for ideas for Host Club's next cosplay.

"Do you like it, Haru-chan?"

Haruhi mentally wondered how someone's eyes could be so huge. It was almost unsettling, especially when her little blond senpai bounced up and down, almost literal stars shining in them. Equally unsettling was the utterly apathetic stare of his precious Usa-chan. Sometimes she felt like that stuffed rabbit could stare straight through her soul.

"Mhm, it's pretty good. I don't think we've tried this before."

Honey clapped his hands together, pleased with her answer. Wait... were those actual cherry blossoms surrounding his head? Weird. "Kyo-chan said it was a new recipe! I think we should get this cake all the time, right, Takashi?"

Stoic as ever, Mori nodded around a mouthful of cake. "Yeah."

Tamaki, she noticed, had been staring at one picture for an alarmingly long time. Being particularly energetic (read: insufferable) today, this was quite a drastic change. His head snapped up with ferocity that almost had her scrambling to dial the number of an exorcist.

"Hey." He said, voice raised to catch everyone's attention. There was a smug glint in his eyes. "Wanna hear a joke?"

"Not really." Hikaru replied, in a bored tone.

Tamaki shot a glare in his direction. "Hikaru! This joke is the most wonderful one in existence, crafted for the pure joy of amusement, intended to be shared among friends-"

He continued on this spiel for a while, until Kyoya shoved a hand over his mouth without even looking up from his page-flipping. "Just tell the joke, Tamaki."

"Alright, fine. Prepare yourself!" He demanded, dramatically. Only Honey was actively paying attention. "Which country has the most birds?"

Silence.

Had this been any other day, the twins would have jumped to steal his thunder, but, thank the heavens, they were still suitably distracted. "Portu _geese_!"

Crickets chirped in the distance. A tumbleweed languidly made its way across the centre of the room.

From beside the boy, Kyoya gave a deep sigh as he questioned his choice in friends. "That's a language."

"Wow, Boss," Kaoru snickered. "Are you that stupid?"

"How could you not know that?"

"I did!" Tamaki spluttered, flushed bright red. "Be quiet, you devil twins!"

Behind their hands, the twins started muttering. "Kaoru, did you hear? The Boss didn't even know Portuguese was a _language._ You'd think someone who was _second best_ in their class would at least know _that_. How _stupid_ can you get? Boss really is a _good-for-nothing poser_." All the while, Tamaki seemed to be struck by invisible arrows, whimpering at each strike.

"Hm, what about Portu _gull_." Honey exclaimed, holding his fork aloft.

"Nice recovery."

Hikaru, from where he was draped over his brother, smirked. "Don't you mean re _dove_ ry?"

Haruhi pinched the bridge of her nose. "Turkey." All heads swivelled to her. "How did you miss Turkey?"

She was almost 99.9% certain that Kyoya ducked behind some magazines purely because he started snickering and didn't want to get caught.

Still, relaxed and content as she was, Haruhi had work to do. She left half an hour later than normal, somewhat regretful that she couldn't have stayed longer.

Even the crowded train carriage couldn't dampen her spirits, noisy and uncomfortable as it was. What could, on the other hand, was catching sight something out of the corner of her eye. Or, more accurately, _someone_. She could see him through a gap in the crowd, and even though his body was angled away from her, gazing off into the other direction, she knew it was him.

The Stalker.

She missed her step and almost tumbled head first down two flights to the ground. Only grasping wildly for the handrail saved her from certain death.

He hadn't spotted her.

Not even when she shouldered her bag and pushed her way outside, barely avoiding knocking over a child in the process. (What was it with small children liking to get in her way?) Once free, she kicked into a hurried run. It was exhausting, but she ran the entire way home, where a very familiar car was pulled up outside her apartment, a blond mop of hair exiting said car and- of course, _just_ what she needed, a surprise visit from Tamaki.

Joy.

She stared dubiously at a puddle of water, wondering whether it was deep enough to drown herself.

Alas, she was spotted before she could even test it out.

"Tamaki-senpai, what are you doing here?" She tried to sound annoyed, but it was hard to sound like anything other than utterly dead when someone as unfit as her had been running for so long.

"You left your revision notes in the clubroom." He handed them to her, thankfully without his usual eccentrics.

"Oh. Thank you."

After several moments, his gentle smile consumed his entire face. "That was really cool of me, right?" There it was. Why did she have to jinx herself? "Of course, an act like this is child's play to me. Maybe I was an angel in my past life, that could be the only explanation. So beautiful and so generous, it's both a blessing and a curse." He struck several dramatic poses. "Well, Haruhi? You're not falling for me, are you?"

She managed a breathy laugh. "Hardly."

Blue eyes finally took the time to assess her condition, and fully absorb the fact that she was a total mess. "Hey… Are you alright?"

"M'fine. Just ran a lot."

He looked even more concerned. "Why?"

Because Haruhi didn't run for anything short of death.

Unless it was for food.

Food meant more to her than some people's lives.

For a grand total of half a second, Haruhi froze. Then, with the straightest face she'd ever made, she lied "There's a sale on at the supermarket." Tamaki blinked. "I don't want to miss it, so I have to be quick."

He fell for it hook, line and sinker.

She almost felt bad.

_Almost._

Deep down, she couldn't help but wonder how much of a glutton the Host Club genuinely thought she was. Though, that was a problem for another day.

After ushering him away, which took patience and energy she probably stole from some other unfortunate soul (because there was no way she could manage that feat in her half-alive state), she went inside and immediately locked the door behind her.

Head tilted up to the ceiling, she took several deep, calming breaths.

Kyoya had explicitly told her to call should anything happen. Only, she reasoned, nothing technically _did_ happen. She spotted him, got spooked, and ran away like a scared child. Hardly a life-threatening situation. Would that really classify as an incident worth bothering Kyoya over?

Sure it would be different if the man had approached, or even put his hands on her. But Haruhi couldn't even be sure that he'd seen her, let alone been looking for her in the first place. Standing in a train station wasn't exactly a crime, after all.

Still, the dread curling in her stomach was rather hard to ignore. Not being one to dismiss her instincts, Haruhi relented and called the boy, hurriedly explaining the situation.

He arrived in record time, possibly breaking every speed limit in existence, though she really couldn't find it in herself to care. He was rich, the rules didn't apply to him. (Which was all good and dandy for her to think, but she knew, deep down, if he actually ever uttered those words to her, she was sure she'd plunge the butter knife she was holding straight into his chest. Thankfully, Kyoya had enough self-preservation and modesty not to).

"Senpai, I told you, it was probably nothing."

"Since he doesn't live or work this side of town, I assure you, you're wrong."

Haruhi blinked, her surprise at this implication drowning out her annoyance at his bluntness. "Wait… Have you already figured out who he is?"

"Naturally." Kyoya scoffed, thumbing through his notebook until he found the specific page. "Here we are. Takeda Hirose, forty five. No outstanding medical conditions. Current address and phone numbers were both easily acquired. Bereft of his spouse, Takeda Naomi, having ended her life ten years ago after the stillbirth of their first and only child. According to my research, he works for fairly profitable IT company. In the past, several complaints had been filed against him by female employees, but they were all eventually dropped. For now, I'm unable to learn the specifics of these cases due to all kinds of bothersome confidentiality agreements, but I'm sure I'll find a way around these sooner or later. I can always pull a couple of favours if all else fails."

He snapped the book shut, and she gave a low whistle. "That's quite impressive."

The bespectacled boy gave an arrogant shrug. "Anything less would be shameful."

Strangely, Haruhi found that his presence comforted her immensely.

Her stomach had been turning in painful knots, yet in a few brief moments, the writhing mess seemed to settle eerily quickly.

She was hardly complaining, though, any relief from that discomfort was welcome.

They chatted for hours.

Haruhi was… surprisingly calm.

Not that Kyoya had really expected her to be hysterical. But then again, this was the girl who previously dealt with her panic by being a walking entity of sass, so it wasn't really too much of a shock.

Still, they sat and talked and they drank so much tea they could've been in England for all he knew, and he helped her with her school work, even if she didn't really need it.

When the time came to start the preparations for dinner, he offered to help her. Partly because he felt awkward conversing through the doorway and partly because he knew it was the polite thing to do, even if he didn't necessarily want to. Haruhi was not employed by him, the rules were different here. Since he wasn't paying her for her services, she had no obligation to cook for him. He figured that it he was expecting to join her for dinner, it was only fair that he help her make it.

That _help_ consisted of retrieving everything off high shelves, which saved Haruhi from having to climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get it herself.

Apparently, she didn't trust him in the kitchen yet.

Considering the last time someone had offered to _help_ , the Twins had almost burnt her kitchen down, he couldn't really blame her. Thankfully Mori was a housefire's worst nightmare, managing to douse the flames before the situation could become too dire.

All in all, it turned out well.

As they ate, Kyoya realised he really didn't give the girl enough credit for her cooking. It tasted just as good as anything he'd have at home. After complimenting her skills, she only rolled her eyes and told him flattery still wouldn't be getting him seconds. He'd almost laughed. Almost. She considered calling an exorcist to remove whatever spirit had obviously possessed him until he threatened to increase her debt, at which point she knew he was the true Kyoya Ootori, for only he could look that menacing while a single strand of noodle hung out the corner of his mouth.

When her father finally arrived home, the two of them were reading in what had previously been the living room, but it was now more like a nest, with the number of pillows and blankets they had dragged in there. They left him to eat in peace, before starting the Serious Talk™.

Haruhi soon realised the conversation wasn't really going anywhere, because Ranka was terrible at trying to hide how furious he was, and Kyoya looked like he was plotting murder. Sure, she wouldn't really care if the stalker completely disappeared off the face of the Earth, but that was not their current objective.

In the end, they decided on three things:

One, they needed to install new, more secure locks.

Two; Ranka would try to change his shifts so he returned home earlier.

And Three: Haruhi was to call if she was ever in trouble. Even for something she viewed as insignificant. _Even_ for something as simple as a bad feeling. Her father really drilled that into her, and while Kyoya didn't say anything, his blazing eyes showed that he agreed with every word.

Before he left, Kyoya helped her clean up the mess, and gave them Tachibana's number Just In Case.

Haruhi thanked him again.

His smile was bittersweet.

He didn't say _anytime_. That felt like so long ago, when they still had hope and everything wasn't so messed up. It would've felt wrong to repeat it, so instead, he said, "I'm always a call away."

She nodded.

His hand clapped on her shoulder, a comforting motion. "It'll be over soon."

It was an unspoken promise. This was Kyoya Ootori, and out of everyone, he could make those words a reality. She raised a smile back, and then he was gone, their goodbyes lingering in the air.

Soon after, Kyoya began the game of, "Let me know whether you got home safe, because I'm a paranoid fuck and will scare your neighbours shitless by having my police force show up fully geared on your doorstep to make sure you're not dead in a ditch somewhere".

So far, Haruhi had only lost once.

Far from being a pleasant experience, the girl was eager not to have a repeat any time soon.

They both were on high alert for the next week or so. Haruhi immediately put him on speed dial. On Wednesday, they talked over the phone the entire way back to her apartment, her nerves going haywire. She was at his house for most of the weekend, studying. He was a big help with getting her workload under control. But as each day dragged passed and they found no signs of him, the two started to relax.

Although, that didn't mean she was allowed to skip the customary; _Appease you mammary glands, Kyoya-senpai. I'm home, all limbs attached_ message. Not that she wanted to, either. Their back and forth ribbing had become something both teens enjoyed greatly, and was probably the main thing their increasing bond was built upon.

With all this considered, when Haruhi arrived at the Host Club for their weekly meeting the following Wednesday, she didn't exactly expect to be walking into a warzone.

"What the Hell?"

"My thoughts exactly." Kyoya was sitting on the windowsill, watching impassively as the carnage unfolded directly in front of him.

"Why are you-"

"I refuse to sit in that disaster zone." Haruhi blinked cluelessly for a further couple of seconds. He maintained casual eye contact, before gesturing towards the table at her side. "Could you pass me my phone?"

With a roll of her eyes at his laziness, she did as he asked, then gave him a little nudge. "Move up." She figured the safest place was next to Kyoya. Anyone who dared to mess with him would quickly regret it, ergo both Tamaki and the twins would be giving him a wide birth. For a moment, she though he was going to refuse her request. But then he shifted his laptop into his arms, and scooted to make room for her to join him. It was a bit of a squeeze, but they had far more important things to worry about. "Why's Tamaki-senpai acting crazier than usual?"

She asked, since maniacally waving your arms around and spouting some strange language of your own creation isn't generally a social norm. But, then again, what did she know?

"Apparently he's having another crisis."

There was no further explanation needed.

"Great." She replied, in her trademark 'not really' voice.

Tamaki had transitioned to sobbing helplessly in the corner, white and listless. The twins, ever helpful, were poking him with a cane. Where they found it was beyond her, but nonetheless, it had been dubbed their Jabbing Stick™ and was put to use immediately.

"Everybody seems to be having a midlife crisis at sixteen."

"Since I don't know which time of my life is the middle, I've decided to have an ongoing crisis." That pretty much summed up her current situation. Kyoya almost choked on his water. Haruhi herself was leaning as far back as she could, right out of the splash zone. "Don't die. You are literally the only bearable person around here."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Haruhi considered this for a moment, before shaking her head. "I take it back. Mori-senpai is far better."

He decided to humour her. "And why is that?"

"He basically never talks."

"Touché."

More commotion. The two turned their attention back to the now wailing Host Club King. "Hold on. Is that… paint? Why on Earth is Senpai covered in paint?"

"Neon pink paint, to be precise. You've only just noticed? Why, Haruhi, I expected you to be a tad more observant than that."

"Oh, be quiet." Haruhi shifted, crossing one leg over the other. "I usually tune him out when he's acting like this, it's not worth getting a headache over…" A sigh. "I'm guessing it was the twins. Bucket of paint on the door, right?"

He confirmed this with a nod. "Another one of their pranks. I'm actually impressed with how swiftly it was executed; they managed to do it while I was busy in the back room. Naturally, I made them clear up the mess on the floor, but Tamaki is an entirely different story."

Tamaki, curled in the foetal position, was rolling furiously across the floor.

Haruhi and Kyoya both stared at him, deadpan, as he continued to wail.

"What is he even saying?"

The bespectacled boy heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I imagine it's something to do with that mess making you losing respect for him."

"I had respect for him in the first place?"

"Evidently so."

Haruhi rolled her eyes. She seemed to be constantly doing that around the hosts. Regardless, she distracted herself by playing with her phone.

"You're texting?"

Kyoya was leaning curiously over her shoulder.

"Yeah, Mei. She says hi, by the way."

"No distractions during Club hours. Also return the pleasantries for me."

Haruhi mumbled something about bipolar senpais, but did so nonetheless, biting back her retort that he wasn't one to talk considering he practically had his laptop shoved up his ass 24/7.

After Tamaki had finally managed to drag himself to the showers and return with a fresh uniform, their weekly meeting went underway. As usual, nothing of much worth was said. For the most part, Kyoya ignored them all in favour of doing whatever he did on his laptop. Tamaki came up with hair-brained schemes that were almost unanimously vetoed, Haruhi tried not to be suffocated by the three main glompers, the twins plotted, Honey ate cake, Usa-Chan was rocking it, and Mori sat there.

Just.

Sat there.

In silence.

Like he usually did.

Nothing new there.

In the end, they packed up with some new ideas and headed off home. Kyoya dropped Haruhi off at the station, where she thankfully didn't run into He Who Must Not Be Named.

No, not Voldemort.

The Stalker.

She hoped this was a sign that he had stopped his stalking ways and decided to become a honest member of society. Of course, at that point, the universe laughed and said, "Haha, yeah right, fuck you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is a tumblr joke #NoRegrets  
> I'm trash and I know it


	4. Uh Oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins are living their best life, Haruhi would really like to sink into the ground, and Kyoya just wants five seconds of peace.

The chiming of the bell sounded, signalling the end of the class. Amidst the bustling of students, Haruhi collected her belongings, silently thanking every deity in existence that she didn't have club activities that day.

While she loved the Hosts to pieces, a girl needed a break every once in awhile. Her more than most. Being stuck with them all week was a sure-fire path to complete insanity, which is why she took great lengths to avoid it. Rather annoyingly, Tamaki had become increasingly more clingy lately, so that wasn't exactly helping matters. The approach of the weekend was something she could be thankful for, giving her a much needed two days of respite before she was tossed back into whatever chaos was likely to spring up on Monday.

But, as ever, apparently the twins didn't get that memo.

"Hey, Haruhi." Swinging her bag over her shoulder, the girl turned to the red-headed twin. Hikaru was sizing her up, hands on his hips, a dangerous stance. He had that look in his eyes that suggested he was planning something, and Haruhi was certain she wouldn't like it. For a moment, the universe stood still. Even Kaoru had stopped throwing his crap into his own bag to watch. "Come hang out with us today."

"No way in Hell."

Kaoru, ever the encourager, abandoned his bag, and slung a lazy arm around his brother's shoulders. "Why not?"

"Because your idea of fun would be making my life a living Hell." Which they couldn't even _try_ to deny, because it was true. Unfortunately, by now she'd learned to live with it. That kind of thing was an occupational hazard that came with being friends with the twins. "And I'm busy. I haven't started on any of the assignments yet."

"You're always busy." Hikaru complained, sinking lower into his crossed arms, pouting like a child.

"And that homework isn't due until next week." Kaoru added, with disappointment. "Why bother with it now?"

Haruhi rolled her eyes, flicking imaginary lint from her clothes. "Knowing you guys, I'd probably get dragged into some last minute scheme of yours. If I don't get it done early, I run the risk of not being able to do it at all. And considering my scholarship depends on me doing well, I'm sure you can see why that would be a problem."

Like a well-oiled machine, they effortlessly switched tactics.

"It's not fair." Hikaru muttered, sulkily. "You never have time for us any more."

"I must be invisible during class and club hours then."

"It's not the same." Kaoru argued. "We're always working then."

"What about that festival you all dragged me to? That wasn't too long ago."

"That doesn't count! We went as a group, and you spent most of the time with Kyoya-senpai, anyway. You two stuck together like glue."

Haruhi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "And you have a problem with that, I gather?"

"Well, no… We just-"

"Want to hang out with you." Hikaru finished, downcast. "You're _our_ friend, too, you know."

"Okay," She compromised, with patience she was known for. Both of them perked up, expectant, like excited puppies waiting for a treat. "Okay, hear me out. I can't do anything with you today, I'm too busy. But I promise you can drag me anywhere you like tomorrow, alright? You'll have more time that way, as well. Does that sound good to you?"

Oh, she would definitely regret this.

Both twins traded furtive glances, as if partaking in a telepathic conversation. It wouldn't exactly surprise her if it were true. In fact, she'd be more surprised if certain members of the group _couldn't_ read minds. And yes, she was looking at Kyoya there. At this point, his deductive skills were just plain spooky.

After an unnervingly prolonged amount of time, identical Cheshire Cat grins spread across their faces, and they high-fived with a loud exclamation of "Score!"

Yep, there it was. Regret hit her with all the subtlety and grace of a two tonne truck.

"I hate you guys." She muttered, striding away.

They followed giddily, sombre expressions lifted.

"Oh, but Haruhi, you just agreed to play with us _all day_ on Saturday."

"I take it back."

"Nice try, but you already promised." Kaoru returned, in a cheerful sing-song.

She groaned, reeling back her face-palm. Trust the twins to play a pity-party to get what they wanted. And trust her to walk right into it. "Alright, fine. You win, I admit defeat." With a look of someone resigned to their fate, she continued, "Would you like anything else while you're here? My wallet? The keys to my apartment? A place in my will?"

"A contract for your soul to be bound to us for all eternity?"

"Yeah, you wish. Now, go to your stupid fancy car and leave me to wallow in peace. Damn rich bastards."

"Be up bright and early, okay? See you tomorrow!" They patted her shoulder and skipped off together, arms slung around each other.

Almost immediately upon stepping outside the building, a swarm of students surrounded her; friends locked in animated conversation, lovers shyly holdings hands, others jostling playfully and laughing between themselves. She returned a couple of warm smiles from regular customers, and was quickly accosted by Renge, who looked like she would explode with enthusiasm over a new Otome game she'd been given special access to and _do you want to play it with me, Haruhi? It'll be really fun, I promise!_

Somehow she managed to extract herself with a firm maybe, and continued on her way.

Her head tilted up to the sky, breathing in the crisp, fresh air.

Despite everything, today was a good day.

The weather was nice, that perfect balance between hot and cold, and the sun was warm and bright, but not blinding. She liked that. The atmosphere was sweet, clean, hinting towards the start of Autumn. Soon, the trees would be a vast array of golds and deep reds, and leaves would crunch underfoot. But, not quite yet. For now, she was satisfied to take in the lush green hues as she headed out through the school gates, narrowly avoiding a car pulling out of the driveway.

She stopped.

Blinked.

In the space of a few seconds, she almost walked into a second car, turned tail and ran back the way she came- whipping her head back around to see if she could catch even the slightest glimpse that suggested the man was following her in- and then, a moment later, she bounced off something hard and firm that reminded her vaguely of a brick wall. Only, in her experience, bricks walls didn't exactly go and catch whichever unfortunate soul slammed into them before they even had a chance to hit the ground.

A worried Kasanoda carefully helped her regain her balance, big hands on her shoulders, eyes scanning over the top of her head. "Fujioka, I didn't see you there. You okay?"

_Absolutely spiffing,_ she thought wryly, _what could be better than my stalker waiting outside my school for me?_

Instead, she swallowed thickly (an unusually hard task) and nodded. "Uh, yeah. Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going."

A narrowed gaze dissected her face. The hairs on her neck prickled. Haruhi resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. "Is something wrong? You look…" He trailed off, and shook his head. "Uh, I mean, I know you don't have club today so what's the hurry?"

"Oh, yeah. Fridays are our day off. But, I… I just remembered that I left something behind," Haruhi made a vague gesture towards the general direction of the building, which didn't exactly strength her Nothing-Suspicious-Going-On-Here case.

"Right..." He intoned, entirely unconvinced. "Well, I'm heading that way anyway-" _Liar_. "-so I guess I'll go with you." She smiled in a tight-lipped way, and nodded, achieving an almost seasick look. Together, they started traipsing back towards the building she'd just exited. In utter, mind-destroying _silence_. But then Kasanoda cut across her and, with a firm hand on her shoulder, started leading her off after a retreating figure. "Morinozuka-senpai!"

"What are you doing?" She asked sharply, without even thinking. The tall boy turned and stared ambling towards them.

"What does it look like? I'm getting someone you'll actually talk to, duh." She winced at his bluntness. "I was behind you the entire time. You saw something outside the gates, bricked it, and came back real quick."

"I did not bri-"

"You were scared." His voice held finality she didn't dare argue with, mostly because it was true. "Maybe not now, but you were before." A beat, where he gazed at her intently, as if unsure about speaking his mind. "Someone's waiting for you out there. And you didn't confront them which is… really unlike you."

"I'm _fine_ -" She attempted, but Mori had came to a stop and was looking at them both with the same serious expression he always wore.

Kasanoda addressed the boy without delay. The traitor. "Fujioka has a problem. A… serious one. Could you help her?" The older boy nodded silently. He was so tall, he cast a shadow over the far more petite Haruhi, who threw a mutinous glare at Kasanoda, and promptly had her hair ruffled by the selfsame redhead. "Hey, the strawberries in the greenhouse are almost ripe. I'll bring you some once they're ready."

It was a peace offering, one which she was tempted to refuse. But his little grin was so hopeful, and he had only been trying to help. Damn him, she couldn't be cruel to a face like that. It was like kicking a puppy.

They parted with a smile, Haruhi following Mori across the lawn, in the general direction of the West Wing.

"Kyoya, right?" Mori, she had to remind herself, was alarmingly observant. Honey was even more so. Speaking of Honey- "Mitsukuni is waiting for me at the Kendo club. Kyoya is in the Third Music Room. His sister is visiting home."

Haruhi wished the journey would take forever. But, frustratingly, the more she hoped, the faster they seemed to go. Suddenly they were at the West Wing, then up the stairs, then through the door, and a surprised Kyoya was looking up from writing notes in his notepad- not his trusty black one, but a book with a deep maroon cover. His revision book.

Steel grey orbs took everything in, the grimness in Haruhi's expression, her obvious reluctance, how much more tense Mori was than normal, the way his eyes kept darting about the room, as if searching for danger.

All of a sudden his chair was pushed backwards, and he was gazing out the window, both hands braced against the ledge. A beat. Kyoya muttered under his breath. It sounded vaguely like a string of curse words, which surprised her. He normally showed more decorum, but she figured politeness was the least of his concerns right now. Pulling out his phone, he relayed a clipped set of instructions to what Haruhi assumed was his bodyguard. He hung up, and raked his fingers through his hair with a sigh, causing several flyaway strands to flop into his eyes.

"Did he see you?"

Haruhi shrugged somewhat helplessly. "I don't know. I saw him first, at least. He was leaning against the fence across the other side of the road."

"He's still lingering there. I've sent Tachibana over to deal with him." At her side, Mori shifted, attracting Kyoya's gaze. Wearily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, then offered his teacup to the girl. "Haruhi, energise yourself. I'll explain everything to Mori-senpai."

Haruhi couldn't even find the energy to protest.

She perched on the end of the desk, legs crossed beneath her, sipping coffee that was a little too dark for her taste while Kyoya talked lowly with the older boy, calmly recounting the past week's events. Mori, for the most part, took the news without a single bat of his eyelash. His only outward display of anger was the way his fist reflexively tightened when hearing about how the man had lunged at Haruhi.

Some minutes later, Kyoya's phone started ringing. He looked even angrier upon hanging up, and relayed the message aloud. "Gone. Must have given up and disappeared down a side street. Tachibana is waiting with the car in the courtyard, I'll take you home, Haruhi." He added.

After Mori was sworn to secrecy, they left.

The journey back to Haruhi's apartment went in complete silence. Both teens were staring out the window, pretending to be completely absorbed in the view, but they were really searching for an unwelcome face in the crowd. One that, thankfully, neither of them spotted. Or, if Kyoya did, he never mentioned it.

She made Chamomile tea. They sat down on opposite ends of Haruhi's futon, warming their hands around their cups. The space between them was filled with everything left unspoken.

Finally, Haruhi ventured out. "Do you need to be home anytime soon?"

He shook his head. "Not especially. Anyway, Fuyumi is there. She beat me at chess this morning, and I would rather not be humiliated again."

Haruhi snorted. "I wouldn't take you for a sore loser."

"She's a sore winner- she laughed and threw the board game pieces at me." He argued, and suddenly they were smiling at each other, the tension broken.

But, in no time at all, Haruhi's smile thinned. Cup settled on the floor, her hands gripped her thighs, and then she really did look her age. Sixteen, ever so young, vulnerable and scared. "What am I going to do?"

Kyoya was no better. He had the expression of someone with more responsibility than he knew what to do with. "I would suggest having your father around more, but considering he has to work long hours, that isn't exactly possible…" He sighed. "In any case, I suppose the best thing to do would be to shake your schedule up a bit. Takeda knows you use the train to get around, so I'll drive you in for some days, and you can get the train for others. Make it random, the more unpredictable, the better."

"But it's not like he'd try to do anything on a crowded train... right?"

"It's better to be safe than sorry. Takeda didn't seem especially fussed causing a scene outside that convenience store despite the fact it had CCTV. From what I've seen so far, witnesses don't appear to be an issue with him, so I doubt that continuing on with your normal schedule would be a wise course of action."

She was still frowning. "I'm not so sure. Senpai, I'd cause too much trouble-"

"For someone so intelligent, you're alarmingly obtuse. If it will keep you safe, then I'm prepared to do it."

A small pause, before she glanced up, a little smile tugging at her lips. "You have feelings?"

"Shut up." He replied, with an amused huff.

Haruhi stuck her tongue out at him. He didn't notice. His expression had hardened into one of anger. "Besides, it's the least I could do. I believe I'm to blame for this escalation." He massaged his temples roughly, with the air of someone with everything to lose. "I researched quite extensively. Apparently it isn't wise to confront them. Which I did. Very publically. With pepper spray, if you remember."

"Kyoya-" She tried to protest.

"Don't." His voice was quiet, barely a whisper.

So she didn't.

"Speaking of pepper spray," He pulled out a bottle from his bag and handed it to her, avoiding looking directly at her. "That's for you. Don't hesitate to use it."

She turned the pepper spray over in her hands, thoughtfully. She vowed to pull a Kyoya next time Takeda so much as took a step in her direction. And by _pull a Kyoya_ she meant, _completely blind the creep._

"I've already contacted the school, they're under strict instructions not to hand out information about you without clear identification, and even then to refer to a member of my family's security team beforehand- that should make it harder for him to locate you. Put a word in to your postal service, it'd be wise to get mail directed to this apartment using your mother's maiden name, rather than _Fujioka_ until this matter is resolved. I've already started a detailed log of his actions, I'll hand it over tomorrow. Be sure to keep it up to date. And, while it may seem a little _overkill_ , as the twins would call it, I feel we should create a safety plan for you and your father, just to be safe."

"Okay. We can work on that later." She mumbled, head in her hands. "I hate this."

"I do, too." He took long a sip of his tea, finally catching her gaze again. "From now on, maybe I should wait with you until your father gets home? A potential boyfriend figure could scare him off."

She arched an eyebrow. "You realise the earliest he gets back is ten at night, right?"

"Yes. I believe I was present when this was discussed, after all." Was the amusement she detected?

"Wouldn't you rather be at home?" She asked, somewhat dubiously.

He shrugged. "I don't particularly care as long as I can get my work done."

Haruhi merely rolled her eyes. "Typical."

That night, Ranka returned home to find both teens sprawled across the futon, fast asleep. Papers lay scattered across the floor, evidence of all their hard work; two empty teacups had rolled down onto the carpet. Haruhi's foot was practically impaling Kyoya's chest, yet he still lay there sleeping soundly.

Carefully shifting the offending limb, Ranka fought back a smile, covered the two with a warm blanket, and dialled the number Kyoya had given them for the boy's bodyguard to inform him that Kyoya would be staying over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You have feelings?" - Literally everyone @ me


	5. This Is Why I Don't Socialise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck with a hell-sent migraine, the resident Ice Queen thaws out... somewhat reluctantly. Luckily for him, he happened to have friends who were perfectly willing to deal with his bullshit

"Tamaki, are you aware that you've been staring at me for the past hour now?"

"You noticed."

Of course he did. It was hardly like the blond was being subtle. Instead of voicing this, Kyoya pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to smother the temptation to introduce his head to the nearest convenient wall. Which wouldn't be exactly be sensible, as it already killed, but then again he might knock himself out, which would save him listening to Tamaki's ramblings.

"Do you have a specific reason for pulling me into this classroom? You're not planning to kill me, right?"

"Not today." He assured, in good humour.

"Good. That would be rather inconvenient to work around my schedule."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Tamaki leant elegantly against the wall Kyoya had been eyeing up all of three seconds ago, talking animatedly. Some grand spiel about his detective skills, complete with the occasional dramatic flourish. Kyoya didn't care to pay attention, but one thing he quickly caught on to was that Tamaki had planned this.

The sun hit his hair at the exact angle needed to make it shine. This same technique had been used yesterday, to charm some frivolous-minded girls. Any minute now he was going to look up and flash that Host smile of his.

Ah, yes. There it was. Kyoya's fingers itched to lob his notebook at the boy's face.

"Hold on a second, are you even listening to me?"

"Well, I hear you talking."

He received a playful shove and a laugh in reply, before they dissolved into uncomfortable silence. Mostly because Tamaki had started that disconcerting habit of pointedly staring at him again. He was pretty sure the blond hadn't blinked once yet.

"Tamaki, if you've got something to say, then spit it out already."

"It's just..." Blue eyes hazed with concern, Tamaki stooped right into Kyoya's personal bubble, his thumb resting thoughtfully against his chin. "You don't look so good today, Kyoya. Is everything okay?"

Great.

If Tamaki had noticed, Haruhi surely would as well. She was already quite adamant about forcing him to eat breakfast with her, actively showing concern for him would be the final nail in the coffin.

And there was Tamaki, gazing up at him so pitifully. He looked like a puppy, Kyoya decided. A rather overgrown, annoying, clumsy one, but a puppy nonetheless. Head cocked to the side, he awaited the bespectacled boy's answer.

Yes, that was it. He was doing it again; using those puppy dog eyes.

Damn him.

They would, one day, be the death of him.

"I just had a bad night's sleep, I'm sure I'll survive."

He didn't mention the steadily growing ache in his head.

"Were you up late working again?" Tamaki's expression turned severe. "Didn't I tell you to stop doing that? It always puts you in a bad mood. And you know, I read somewhere that you're more likely to have nightmares if you do that. Is that what you want? Honestly, you're going to end up working yourself to death one day."

Kyoya could almost taste the sea-salt breeze, as though it were all yesterday, and he was seeing her falling, falling, falling once more, unable to do anything to stop it. The nightmare- dream. _Dream._ It was a dream. A horrible one, but a dream all the same. Nightmare suggested it had power over him and he was _not_ a prisoner to his own subconscious.

Seeing a montage of days he thought he'd put behind him, the in-the-moment panic that fuelled him to hurl himself off a cliff, the way the water stung at his eyes, already blurry from his impaired vision, useless without his frames. More of a problem than a help, useless, useless, _useless._ Then came the waves, breeching over his head, and he was sinking, clawing fruitlessly at the water, choking-

Drowning.

He woke in a cold sweat, in his room, utterly alone.

"Do quit your fussing, Tamaki, it's bothersome. I merely lost track of time, it's hardly like it was deliberate."

A total lie.

But it wasn't as though he could tell. And what Tamaki didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Rather than return to the mercy of his own demons, he threw himself into work.

It didn't matter that it was pointless graphs and tables and charts.

All that mattered was that he kept himself busy.

Tamaki shook his head, an edge of fondness to his movements. "You could use a break. You're always working so hard. "

"One of us has to," He poked a slender finger against Tamaki's forehead. "You're always too busy messing around, sometimes I wonder if you actually have a brain up there in that head of yours."

Tamaki pouted, following at his side as they navigated the halls. Quite suddenly, he released a high-pitched gasp. "Kyoya! Listen, I've just had the most brilliant idea!"

"You're too loud." The bespectacled boy complained, touching his temple with a grimace.

An arm was unceremoniously slung around his shoulders. "We should hold a study session!"

"I highly doubt that'll be popular with the others. And I can't really say that'd I'd blame them."

If the blond had ears, they would be drooping down. "Oh, please, Kyoya? For me?"

"Don't do that."

"What?" He asked, innocently, and Kyoya had a sinking suspicion that he was being played. But surely Tamaki couldn't be that smart. Who was he kidding, seventeen years of age and the blond still resorted to puppy-dog-eyes to get his own way. Manipulation came easy to him.

"You think whenever you say _please, for me,_ I'll do whatever you want. Not this time."

"Please, for me?"

"Okay." _Goddamnit._ Kyoya gave a long suffering sigh. "Didn't you just tell me to stop working practically three seconds ago? This is hardly reinforcing your case, you know."

He was almost choked when the excitable blond came to a sudden halt. "Well, I know you won't listen, so this is the next best thing. How about this, we'll all gather at Haruhi's house this weekend to study. I know those three have tests coming up, so it's what the commoners would call a win-win for everyone! I can help my darling daughter, _and_ keep an eye on you at the same time. Aren't I wonderful?"

Kyoya disentangled himself with a roll of his eyes. "Yes, yes. The saviour of us all, an ethereal being of some mystical, higher power, so on so forth." With a smile, he glanced over his shoulder at his sulking friend. "Hurry up, will you? I'm starving."

"Coming! We can tell the others all about my fantastic plan, too."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure they'll be thrilled."

Spoiler: they weren't.

"Huh?" Hikaru and Kaoru intoned, confused. They glanced at each other for a moment, before the elder twin continued. "Boss, you want us to have a study session?"

Tamaki nodded, gesculating dramatically with his spoon. "Yes! The both of you and my precious daughter have exams soon, don't you? It's only natural for me, as your King, to aid my loyal underlyings."

"Well, I don't know much about being under you, but those exams aren't actually-"

"That big of a deal." Amber eyes shifted to the left, onto Haruhi. "Well, for _us_."

They were met with pure apathy from the petite brunette.

"Revising together would be pointless."

"Not to mention boring." Kaoru added, flicking a rolled up chunk of his napkin away, where it conveniently bounced off Tamaki's head.

"We'll pass."

Tamaki deflated much like a popped balloon, mumbling darkly into his lunch. Kyoya pointedly ignored him. His vision had blurred together some time before, and he had only just realised that in waiting for it to clear he had been glaring at Hikaru for a full ten seconds.

Quickly averting his gaze, he inadvertently caught eyes with Haruhi from across the table. She had been dragged there by the twins, quite unwillingly, and now sat quietly eating her bento. Or, more accurately, staring at him.

Yep.

Definitely noticed.

So, while the others were distracted by Tamaki's guilt trip, he pulled out his phone and began typing under the table.

 

> _**I'm not an art exhibit, stop staring. I'm fine.** _

 

Her brows furrowed as she read the message, ochre orbs flashing up momentarily, before returning to the device.

 **Haruhi:** _You look terrible. You didn't sleep well last night, did you?_

_Wow, no scathing quip? She really must be worried._

_How disgusting._

He shrugged, well enough for her to see, and returned to his meal. She followed suit, clearly displeased.

Tamaki, of course, was still babbling on. "It's the perfect chance to bond as a family!" He insisted, almost taking Honey's eye out with his spoon.

"And where exactly do you suggest we hold this, Boss?"

"Yeah, Tama-chan. Where?"

"Haruhi's apartment, of course." He declared, grandly. "It's small enough that it will give the experience a cosy, loving atmosphere! And of course this would save Haruhi from going out of her way to get to ours- public transport, while quaint, is far too dangerous for a young lady such as herself to use alone!"

"Boss, you're just saying that because you almost fell between the train and the platform." Hikaru commented, airily, beaning Tamaki straight in the head once again.

Kyoya lazily flicked a stray wad aside, absently wondering how much longer Tamaki's patience would last. He would've joined in the teasing, if it hadn't felt like there was a corkscrew drilling into his head.

"What kind of idiot just steps right off, anyway?" Kaoru added, to further contribute to Tamaki's growing embarrassment. Another ball bounced off the blond's forehead. "Everyone knows there's a gap there."

Tamaki valiantly fought off his mounting annoyance. Despite his efforts, the veins in his forehead were definitely throbbing. "Regardless of all that, I have decided that Haruhi's apartment will be most suitable! You all have no objections with that, correct?"

The said girl in question had just about finished processing this new information, and was jumping to squash the fire before it got out of hand. "Wait a minute. Don't get ahead of yourselves, you can't all just-"

"If it's at Haru-chan's, count me and Usa-chan in!" Honey exclaimed, around a mouthful of cake. Seriously. This kid ate nothing but cake. How he was even healthy was beyond her. "You'll come too, right Takashi?"

The tall boy nodded, expressionless as ever. Either he was allergic to the whole spectrum of human emotion, or had used too much No More Tears Shampoo back when he was a kid. Being that indifferent was just plain spooky, that is if he wasn't actually a robot in disguise.

She wouldn't put it past him, to be perfectly honest.

The twins leant forward, with identical evil grins, just about sealing her fate.

"Well, then I guess we'll join-"

"If Haruhi's hosting."

"Guys are you even listening to me?" The answer was no. No they were not.

Tamaki smiled and struck a triumphant pose, actual physical glitter blowing in the draught caused in the well air-conditioned room. "Kyoya?"

"As long as I can get my work done, then I have no objections." The girl gawked at him, betrayal in her eyes.

"Then it's settled! This Saturday, we're all going to study together! Isn't this exciting?"

Haruhi merely slumped in defeat.

.

.

* * *

.

.

His eyes were squeezed closed.

Tightly. So tight he could see sparks dancing through the blackness.

Someone was bound to notice soon. He probably looked like he was constipated, but in this moment, he honestly didn't have a single fuck left to give.

He was fuckless.

He wouldn't actually be surprised if he had been born with -500 fucks to give.

_Breathe._

Chin propped up by his hand.

Arm trembling.

_Stop._

Deep. Breaths.

To be perfectly honest, he wasn't quite sure how he'd made it through the day. In the confusing haze, he couldn't even remember how he reached the clubroom in one piece. The miracle would be forever a mystery to him, just like the mystery of how Tamaki had managed to survive the first fourteen or so years of his life without him- that boy needed constant supervision, how he was even alive was beyond Kyoya's comprehension.

What was also beyond Kyoya's comprehension was how to act like a normally-functioning member of society. With his permanent resting bitch-face, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume that the twins were cowering in the fear that he was currently planning some pretty gruesome murders.

Likely theirs.

In reality, snakes writhed in his stomach. (Well, he'd be concerned if there were actually snakes). Fangs sank into his organs, ripping and tearing, and venom surged through his veins. He rode out wave after wave of nausea, keeping himself centred. Keeping himself still.

It would pass soon.

But the sledgehammer on his skull wouldn't.

He'd known this was coming since the moment he woke up that morning (or was it technically still night?), yet in his pure stubbornness, he tried to deny it as best as he could.

What a mistake that had been.

Now here he was, suffering. Trapped, with no hope of relief.

A hand on his shoulder.

Or was it his imagination?

He glanced up.

The colours were so damn _loud._

Blond hair. Practically golden, the purest sunshine, blinding him like the sudden appearance of a supernova. Tamaki. Definitely real. Tamaki, noticing everything, like always.

Tamaki, helping.

"Come with me. I think you've exerted yourself enough for today." The boy lead him forward with a determined hand around his wrist, easily navigating the room with steady, smooth steps, right into the back room. Kyoya felt himself guided onto the couch. "Rest here."

"Tamaki-"

He was hushed, a hand on his chest gently but insistently pushing him back down. "Rest, Kyoya. You're in a lot of pain."

Kyoya relaxed. The material was soft, plush. He sunk into it, feeling as though he was floating on air.

"Stop with the face."

Chuckling, Tamaki draped a blanket over the boy. Pale blue- a soft sound like the tinkle of running water. Where he'd retrieved it from was beyond him. "Try to sleep for a bit, alright? I'll take care of everything."

"That doesn't exactly reassure me."

There it was. Weak, and shaky, but more _him_ than this pitiful, grovelling _thing._ God, he hated himself right now.

For a while, all he could focus on was the determined flitting of his best friend.

The other Hosts had congregated at the door. A wall of silent, concerned faces, shifting nervously.

The blond swiftly put them all to work. Honey and Mori whizzed around, snapping the blinds closed and plunging the room into darkness. Kaoru almost suffocated him with a collection of stray blankets and pillows. Haruhi was tasked with grabbing some water, ice cold- Tamaki added a little colourful umbrella to cheer him up, and if he were able to, Kyoya would've thrusted it up his nose. With stiff movements and a manner quite unwilling, Hikaru reluctantly handed over his treasured headphones.

Fixed securely over his ears, the silence that greeted him was a temporary blessing.

He must have drifted in and out of sleep a couple of times, because he only retained confusing snatches of memory.

He didn't quite remember when Hosting hours had started, nor the exact number of times one of those morons had peeped into the room to check on him, apparently thinking they were being subtle.

Tamaki had returned at one point, with a familiar box of pills in hand. Dry and hard to swallow, Kyoya remembered them from previous migraines. Triptans. He hated the bastards, but they worked miracles.

After choking down one with a hefty amount of water, Tamaki adjusted the pillows and left.

Often, he was alone.

That suited him just fine.

He wasn't exactly eager for the others to gawk at him. Not to mention the fact that the twin's eyes were almost as bad as Tamaki's hair. So bright and _loud_ and painful. His head must be splitting open. Maybe if he reached up he could feel the cracks.

_No._

No, that was stupid.

Your head is fine, Kyoya. Stop being an idiot.

A cold compress had appeared at some point in his state of exhaustion. Tamaki's doing, most likely. It felt like heaven, cooling the skin, seeming to seep right through him, and attack the pain directly.

He woke much later, feeling moderately less shit, and staring up at a ceiling that wasn't quite familiar.

For a moment, he thought he was waking up in Haruhi's apartment once again, just like before.

It was yellow there. Not in the sense that the apartment was _literally_ yellow, but Kyoya just had the feeling of yellow. It was warm, inviting, it felt more like a home than his own, which was only yellow when Fuyumi visited, and even then, not quite a rich golden colour like there.

God, he sounded ridiculous.

But the absence of cooking food, and a cheery Ranka dragging him over for breakfast sent that theory spiralling out the window. No, this wasn't like before, with a sleepy Haruhi- hair still mussed from bed- making casual conversation with him across the table, and him wanting the merciful gods he didn't believe in to strike him down right there and then.

Maybe they sensed his lack of faith, for he was left to suffer.

That was certainly a strange morning, and he'd experienced plenty of those in his lifetime.

It culminated in him being unceremoniously kicked out once she remembered the twins would be arriving soon to pick her up, ("Bright and early" for the twins apparently meant at a time in which Ranka would not immediately toss them out of the apartment for disturbing him, as had occurred on several occasions, all of which would _never_ be mentioned ever again owing to how mentally scarring they are were), and it would certainly look very strange if they found Kyoya sitting there, still in his uniform from yesterday.

("Strange" being the understatement of the century. Kyoya suspected the fallout of _that_ situation would've likely entailed him ending up dead in some nondescript ditch, body mutilated beyond recognition).

Of course, it would be a cold day in Hell before the bespectacled boy allowed her to leave without protection, so instead of causing a flat out argument, he stuck a tail on the car without her knowledge. (She would have surely murdered him if she found out, so Kyoya's continued survival was a miracle in itself). From what was reported to him, the three were safely tucked up in the Hitachiin mansion the entire day.

Well, that depended on what your definition of _safe_ was.

He initially doubted she would be safe from their pranks and mischief.

She called him later, after returning home. The day, despite all her expectations, had been quite enjoyable. The twins hadn't even used this as an opportunity to stick her in revealing outfits… Not that they didn't try. She shot them down in less than a second, and was eventually coerced into helping them by modelling a new petite range of clothing they'd designed- a task delegated to them by their mother, who was thoroughly pleased with their work. Since the twins joined her in putting on ridiculous outfits and generally messing around, she felt far less reluctant than she normally would have.

Hearing that she was safe and well was… satisfying?

Now, during that long-winded self-reflection, Kyoya had deduced he was, not, in fact, in Haruhi's apartment.

So that left the mystery of where the _fuck_ he actually was.

The last thing he remembered was… passing out in the back room? Or, well, falling asleep. That seemed more suitable. Much more refined. Here he was clinging to his last shreds of dignity as if he hadn't just practically died in front of his entire friendship group. He was never living this down.

He sighed, shifting slightly and finally registering a soft material underneath his hand.

Ah, yes, there was the blanket Tamaki had draped across him. Evidently his unconscious body hadn't decided to take a wander.

To his relief, he heard absolutely nothing.

The painkillers must be working.

… And his throat was dry.

Disgusting.

The colourful monstrosity that had been his glass of water had been removed. Kyoya wasn't quite sure whether he was glad or not.

In the search for a drink, he spotted Haruhi sitting in a chair next to the window, quietly reading a book.

Shifting the headphones down, he raised his head rather awkwardly, mentally piecing together a sentence which displayed his usual eloquence. After wallowing for however long, Kyoya was eager to re-assert himself as a force that wasn't to be reckoned with, lest anyone foolishly assumed he had degraded into a pushover from one measly migraine.

"You're blurry."

Nailed it.

Haruhi glanced up, surprised. "Your glasses are on the table, Kyoya-senpai." He almost bitch-slapped himself in the face, hand grouping to determine this for himself. Since Haruhi had already seen him cross-dress, half naked and now half dead, he had no shame, having already come to terms with the fact there was no chance of her holding even the slightest amount of respect for him ever again.

Finding no sign of the usual frames, the same hand reached across the table to locate them. His fingers touched something smooth and most definitely _not_ his glasses, before Haruhi gently smacked them away, having crossed the room in that time.

She slipped them on to their rightful perch, miraculously managing _not_ to take out as eyeball as she did.

"What time is it?"

A teacup was thrusted into his hands. "Sorry, it's cold now, but Tamaki-senpai insisted it would help you, so you better drink it." Once he eased himself up, Kyoya obediently took a sip, grimacing at the taste. Cold, _weak_ coffee always sickened him. He would've announced this aloud, but feared that Haruhi would give him a scolding smack upside the head and so wisely held his tongue. "It's five right now. Oh, and I called Tachibana-san earlier. He'll be here at seven to take you home. He wanted to give you time to rest up, but if you still can't make it downstairs, he said he'd carry you."

"Fantastic." With much agony, Kyoya curled back up on the couch. "How long was I sleeping for?"

"The better part of two hours. You kept waking up, so Tamaki-senpai ordered us to stop disturbing you." She hesitated. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Marginally, I suppose. I no longer feel on the verge of death. And everything is quiet now, at least." Tired eyes searched the tables. "By any chance, did Tamaki leave any tablets behind?"

"Yeah, I've got the box in my pocket. If you're still feeling bad, you can have another one in an hour." She touched his forehead. Well, the compress, to be precise. Still maintaining her quiet tip-toeing around him, she hummed under her breath. "Hm, that's feeling pretty dry. Do you want me to get you a new one? There's a load in the first aid kit."

"Yes, thank you." Then, in a very soft voice, he asked. "Where's Tamaki?"

Haruhi shot him a sympathetic smile as she rifled through the box. "He had to leave. He tried to convince his father, but apparently it was really important." Agonisingly slowly, he peeled off the old compress and discarded it on the table. Haruhi ignored his outstretched hand and carefully applied the new one, cool fingers a relief against warm skin. "He was really worried, so I offered to stay here with you."

"I see."

He might've slept for a little while, but he wasn't quite sure.

Haruhi was with him, at least.

So he was safe.

.

.

* * *

.

.

She'd been staring at the little black book more frequently. No matter how much she tried not to, the secrets hidden in the pages intrigued her so much, she abandoned all reason.

A miracle, in itself.

Or would a curse be more appropriate?

Eventually, Kyoya clocked on. Still in too much pain to sit up, he'd been staring up at the ceiling for a while now, occasionally conversing with her in a low voice.

"Now what?"

Haruhi pretended to be entirely fascinated with her nails, but she wasn't fooling anyone.

"Nothing." She responded, automatically.

He shifted his arm to stare at her properly. "Don't lie to me, Haruhi. It's irksome. Especially when executed so poorly." Tiredly, his narrowed eyes settled on the black notebook he hadn't realised was under one arm. "You want to look, don't you?" She merely gave a non-committed shrug in response. "Well?"

"I'm… interested." She replied, finally. "You always seem to be writing in it. Can I see?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. His gaze flicked from his precious book, up to her, and back again, as though he were jealously guarding some precious secret. Eventually, and with slight hesitation, he placed it into her outstretched, yet entirely unsuspecting, hand.

Haruhi blinked, somewhat speechless. She didn't expect it to be so _freaking easy._ "Are you sure?"

He gave a small nod, fingers flying to his temple almost immediately with a little 'ow'. Once he recovered, he managed a small smile. "I don't mind."

Haruhi very quickly came to the conclusion that an injured Kyoya was a pushover. "But you've always been annoyed when Tamaki or the twins try to look."

"They never bothered to ask me first. Wouldn't you be annoyed if they tried to take something of yours without permission?"

It was a valid point. Haruhi herself often scolded them for doing the self same thing with her. She couldn't really blame Kyoya for unleashing Hell upon them when those three plotted against him. It wasn't like they ever succeeded, either. The whole endeavour seemed rather pointless, especially if Kyoya was so willing to share when asked politely.

Even with his migraine-induced bed rest, she was 99.9 percent certain he wouldn't hesitate to cut her if she damaged his precious book in any way. There goes the pushover theory. His eyes deftly tracked her progress towards the window where she settled down, carefully edging the blinds up the slightest amount to light the book.

She picked a random page.

Which was blank.

Going for a re-do, she flipped more towards the front of the book and hoped for the best.

 _This_ time she hit the jackpot.

Notes were sprawled within every square inch of the paper, neatly printed in carefully formed characters.

_Kaoru- Classical music. Piano and Strings, flowing rhythm, think running water. Soft, melodic, gentle._

_Hikaru- Rock. Drums, energetic, firm beat. Headphones on, solitary._

Little reminders of quirks and characteristics. Personality traits, preferences, and a shit ton of light-hearted sarcasm everywhere she looked.

And then sprinkled in between there were little sketches, micro-expressions Kyoya had picked up on and jotted down for future reference; the subtle crease between Mori's brows when he frowned, differing only slightly from when he was angry to when he was concerned. Or the direction Hikaru's eyes flicked to when he was lying, or ashamed. The tad difference between Tamaki's real smile, and one concealing pain.

Or just a memento of that time Tamaki walked into a door and subsequently had the twins rolling on the floor laughing at him for a good fifteen minutes.

Then there were reminders of which confectionary Honey liked best, with numbers printed neatly beside them, ready to dial should the little blond senpai need cheering up.

Ideas for cosplay, notes on what lines and costumes seemed to be the most well-received, as well as the occasional graph or table. Notes on customers, queries, concerns.

… Then there were the names of people who had conveniently stopped frequenting the club. Now, Haruhi wasn't dense, she'd seen a couple of customers get a little _too_ handsy with the boys. She'd even raised concerns herself a couple of times, and tried to subtly probe to see if the effect party were alright after each incident. She _did_ have a heart, after all. Seeing her friends get _grouped_ just about tested the limits of Haruhi's kindness. Apparently Kyoya had noticed, too, (not that he hadn't experience it himself), and dealt with that appropriately.

Some words were circled in big, looping rings. There were whole sentences underlined with dark, jagged lines. Some more carefully highlighted, others more rushed, showing more urgency to be remembered.

Her name jumped out at her sometimes.

Scents she liked; vanilla and apple and cinnamon- _Candles,_ followed by three question marks and ringed quite soundly. _Warm jumpers, oversized, comfy-_ A nod to her randomly slipping on the ones he often left lying around her apartment. Though now she was beginning to think that that may have been deliberate.

Sly bastard.

There were pages and pages of notes, so many it would take her hours to go through them all.

She returned, meeting cool steel grey eyes.

"Are you satisfied?"

Haruhi pointed silently at the pen beside him. After a moment of curious studying, he handed it to her, resisting the urge to lean over as she deftly tacked down, _green tea_ and _engaging books_ next to her name. She had a feeling that he'd already had those two things filed away somewhere, but it never hurt to make sure. Then, with a smile, she handed it back to him.

After scanning over her neat characters, his eyes slid shut once more.

"This was a very educational experience."

"Is that so?"

Haruhi, fraught with indecision, chewed mercilessly on her bottom lip. This action, she knew, had not gone unnoticed by Kyoya, but he didn't bother to comment on it. Instead, he allowed her to work up the courage to choose whether or not she wanted to voice her thoughts.

"Why do you like to present yourself as such a heartless bastard when in reality you are far from that?"

Her words enticed a small smile. "Isn't it easier that way?"

She found it intriguing how he posed a question, instead of returning with a firm statement.

But Haruhi could neither deny nor agree with this, so she merely shrugged, and allowed them to lapse into thoughtful, companionable silence, with only the quiet flipping of pages to keep them tethered to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamaki is basically The Best Friend Ever™  
> Also you can pry quietly protective Kyoya from my cold, dead hands


	6. Being Selfish ft. My Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the study session arrives, and just as expected, it's wild from start to finish. Honestly, Haruhi was just surprised that nothing ended up on fire, or in pieces.

Kyoya stared at the apartment door, wondering whether or not he should knock.

Yes would be the obvious answer, yet the metal in his pocket argued otherwise. Although, considering it was an inanimate object, that argument went just as well as expected. He extracted the key regardless, appraising it thoughtfully from the palm of his hand with an intensity that suggested he was hoping for it to do some backflips, rather than just remain completely motionless.

Just yesterday Haruhi had entrusted him with a spare key, citing that him being able to come and go as he pleased would be less stressful for everyone. (How that could possibly be _less stressful_ was beyond him. In his opinion, giving someone the means to stroll into the apartment whenever they wanted was guaranteed to cause more stress. And possibly a string of homicides, too).

Though, having spent more time at her house than his own in the past two weeks or so, he could see that is would be easier this way.

Still, was it wise to take her words at face-value?

Knocking was considered polite (as polite as a harsh, repetitive sound could be), even if she'd gifted him the means to enter by himself. Logically, the key may solely be for emergencies, or to enter if nobody was yet home, rather than having to mill awkwardly on the doorstep until either father or daughter returned.

But then again, knocking might make her assume he was someone else, and he'd rather risk being rude than be trapped outside for who knows how long.

Besides, it was cold. And if there was anything Kyoya hated more than mornings (which in itself were pure evil from the pits of Hell), it was the cold.

Without further ado, he unlocked the door and quietly headed inside, realising far too late that he'd forgotten to warn Haruhi he was coming early. As it was him, he hoped that his unexpected arrival would be taken to more kindly than if he were some of the other Hosts.

Especially Tamaki.

During the week, the self-proclaimed Host Club King had decided that a study session would be held at Haruhi's apartment, his relentless enthusiasm drowning out her weak protests.

After dragging herself from Tamaki's clutches (an extremely difficult task on this particular occasion), the glare she'd shot the bespectacled boy still raised a chuckle, even now.

"How could you just let him decide this?" She asked, half playful in her annoyance.

"He was sneaky, Haruhi. He exploited my complete lack of interest in whatever he was saying."

She snorted, somewhere between mirth and indignation. "I can't believe you."

And so here he was, a little over an hour early to said study session. And no, surprisingly, it wasn't an accident.

Brushing aside the simple fact that Kyoya Ootori didn't make mistakes, he figured that helping her bomb-proof her apartment before the loose cannons arrived would be worthwhile compensation. If he'd made more of an effort to oppose Tamaki, then the whole idea would have been scrapped.

Or at least postponed for the foreseeable future.

To be fair, he didn't necessarily want to veto it. This whole study session made his job marginally easier, after all. With all the Hosts present, watching Haruhi would be child's play. It would even give him a chance to take several calls without arising any suspicion.

Placing his shoes neatly to the side (good etiquette had been drilled into him at a young age), Kyoya headed for the noise of the vacuum. Haruhi obviously hadn't heard him come in, and he would rather not be the cause of an early heart attack.

Just short of announcing his presence, Kyoya paused in the doorway, unwilling to enter.

Haruhi was listening to music, earbuds in, lost in her own little world.

She bounced around the room, humming the lyrics under her breath, the most carefree Kyoya had ever seen her. Sometimes he forgot that they were both still children, sixteen and seventeen, stumbling blindly through life with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

It was strange, he decided, after a prolonged moment.

Very… strange.

Haruhi was an intriguing woman, in her own right.

It reminded him that sometimes he did wish he had a camera. Not a digital one. Or the one built into his phone. A polaroid camera, that printed images in picture perfect squares. There were moments he wished he could photograph. Moments that struck a chord in him. That made him acknowledge that he did have a heart somewhere in there, god forbid.

Fleeting moments.

Barely even there, and yet, somehow the most poignant of all.

The way Tamaki's eyes lit up when he smiled, Hikaru and Kaoru's playful expressions, Haruhi's rare moments of fierceness, or that one time Mori laughed so hard he could barely breathe, the action completely and utterly sincere, and Honey's startled expression as he witnessed this miracle.

He'd hang them all up upon those dreary grey walls, until they were lost in a sea of colour.

Maybe he wasn't too dissimilar to Tamaki after all... It seemed like something that moron would be enamoured with, but for a whole host of different reasons, perhaps.

The notion in itself was ridiculous.

A childish desire to rebel.

One that hadn't diminished all these years, despite his various ways of venting it; his deliberate spiking of a rather unpleasant young man's drink, for example. He'd dumped enough tasteless laxatives in there to make even the most stone-hearted of people wince. (Kyoya himself had no sympathy for him- he'd been very displeased with the bastard's attitude towards Fuyumi, seeing him put his hands on her was quite frankly, the last straw. Subsequently, the creep learnt a very important lesson on respecting women that night).

Those pictures would be a physical display to show his family, maybe the entire world even, that he existed. That he was _living_ not just surviving, a far cry from the empty soul he'd been years before, emotions and desires trapped deep inside the walls he'd crafted for himself. That he could finally _see._

Or... maybe it would be for the days when everything felt so daunting. When he just wanted to stay in his room, huddled underneath the blankets and sleep his life away- then all he had to to was look up and remember what made life worth living.

But he was an Ootori, and Ootori's, if anything, were far from sentimental. There was nothing to gain from trivial things like mementos. The mere idea of trinkets and keepsakes were dismissed as useless, frivolous ideas for the soft-hearted. Kyoya knew the importance of making sacrifices. If locking these thoughts away would get him where he wanted, then that was what he would do.

He'd committed himself to this challenge.

He wouldn't turn back now.

So Kyoya would commit every groove and edge to memory; the wrinkles around eyes and contours of faces, the sound of genuine laughter. In his mind, they'd be little balls of light, suspended around his room, chasing the shadows away.

He stood there, memorising the way the sun rays kissed her hair warmly, gold and bronze catching the light every now and again, her youthful face relaxed into one of utter peace.

There were no prying eyes here.

But there would be, soon.

He retreated to the front door, tripping over his feet along the way. She didn't hear the resounding thump as he caught himself, nor the drawn out creek as he inched the door open. Once the vacuum was switched off, he pulled it shut, with a little more force than he normally would.

Haruhi poked her head out of the room, curious, almost appearing to glow. "Kyoya-senpai? You guys aren't due for another hour or so." Confusion lead way to brief panic. "The other's aren't with you, right?"

"It's just me." He assured, and she instantly relaxed. "I was already in the area, so I figured I should drop by early."

"Oh?" She hummed, with a smile. "What were you doing?"

"I don't see why it's particularly important, but I was running some small errands." Lie, lie and, oh look, more lies. "I suppose I could lend my assistance. Is there anything you want me to do?"

Haruhi barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Well, if you're offering, could you sort out the laundry? The wet stuff needs to be taken out, and there's another load that can go in."

He stooped in an over exaggerated bow. "As the princess wishes."

.

.

* * *

.

.

After the relative peace of the morning- relative, as Kyoya almost put too much detergent in the washing machine, and was promptly corrected (read: practically tackled) by Haruhi- the arrival of the remaining Hosts went just about as well as Kyoya expected, complete with himself and Haruhi nursing identical headaches.

Tamaki kicked up a fuss solely because he expected to be the first one there, and was sorely mistaken.

Left to have his tantrum in his Corner Of Woe, Haruhi and Kyoya braced themselves for the shitstorm that was the twins, the aftermath of which resulted in Tamaki well and truly barricading himself in his little corner, and Haruhi's fingers itching towards the knife she'd used to slice Honey's cake.

As ever, the blond senpai had arrived with his usual confectionary and cousin in tow, smile bright as a supernova and just as blinding.

Kyoya, unwilling to deal with the prospect of disposing of his former friend's bodies, appeased her with his slice of cake (it was far too sweet for his liking, anyway) and for the moment, disaster was averted.

That peace thankfully lasted throughout Kyoya's brief encounter with Hikaru, whom he had pulled aside to return the aforementioned boy's precious headphones. Hikaru had all but snatched them from his hands, scanning them over with alarming intensity for the slightest bit of damage. He found nothing of concern, of course, and rose with a sheepish smile.

"Thank you," Kyoya ventured, before Hikaru could scoot off to locate his twin. The redhead froze, looking entirely uncomfortable with this sudden conversation, eyes darting for an escape. "They helped a lot."

Finding nothing which could possibly save him from this encounter, other than faking a heart attack (which Kyoya wouldn't doubt Hikaru had been honestly considering) the younger boy cocked his head, evidently resigned to his fate.

"It's not a big deal." He dismissed, awkwardly. "Just don't do it again."

Forcing down his indignation at receiving orders from _Hikaru_ of all people, Kyoya nodded, achieving an almost sea-sick look. "It wasn't particularly pleasant, if I'm honest."

Hikaru merely stared, amber eyes inquisitive, almost calculating- a look that was completely out of place for the usually rambunctious twin. "Senpai," He began, after a sizeable, almost unbearable silence. "I'm serious, don't do it again. You scared the crap outta everybody."

Kyoya's brows furrowed. "That wasn't my intention."

"What, you want me to say it outright?" Hikaru sighed, clearly growing agitated. "Damn it, senpai, you're supposed to be the smart one. What kind of idiot just ignores something like that?"

Finally, it clicked. Kyoya's defences softened into quiet amusement. "This one, apparently."

Hikaru's arms crossed tighter over his chest, fingers clearly digging into his skin. "You never told us about the migraines. Kaoru and I thought… I don't know, that you were really sick or something. We didn't know what the hell was going on."

"It's irritating," On reflex, Kyoya adjusted his glasses. "So I don't like talking about it. Tamaki only knew due to... extenuating circumstances," A good natured roll of his eyes followed. "And the fact that he's a nosy bastard."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." The redhead stretched his arms up above his head. "Are there any more surprises you want to spring on me before I go?"

Kyoya hesitated for the moment, feeling as though he were almost being dissected. "Well, now that you mention it, I _do_ believe I'm in need of glasses. A shocker, I'm aware."

"Hilarious."

On his way back into the main room, Hikaru thumped him on the back. That was likely as close to being supportive as he could manage. He appreciated it nonetheless. Kyoya followed some time after, only after taking a moment to soak in the relative peace.

The respite was alarmingly brief, with the deities above evidently hell bent on throwing as much chaos their way as possible.

Usa-chan almost became collateral damage in the arm-wrestle-turned-actual-wrestling fiasco instigated by the Hitachiins. On a side note, Haruhi's apartment was also almost destroyed in said incident, but somehow that couldn't nearly equate to the unholy horror that would have unfolded should even a single thread be out of place on Honey's precious toy. On a level of dead, to dead as fuck, they would've been deader than a hunter mauled by a feral bear.

After that, Haruhi threatened arson, murder, and prompt ejection from her apartment if they didn't sit their asses down and start revising like they planned to do.

Cowed, the boys crowded around her little table and buckled down.

Haruhi made sure to separate Tamaki and the twins, should they attempt to cause mischief. Unfortunately, that meant she had Kaoru on one side, and Hikaru on the other, but it was a price she was willing to pay for a fleeting moment of peace. Like cats, they eventually got bored of draping themselves across her, and began quietly completing equations.

A cutesy voice interrupted her reverie. "Kyo-chan, I don't understand this. Can you help me?"

"Of course." Kyoya leant across the table to get a better view of Honey's work. "What appears to be the problem?"

The said blond pouted, swivelling his book around to face the younger boy. "I can't get the answer right. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Haruhi herself could relate. Her current problem seemed utterly impossible, and her attempts were beginning to get tiresome.

Kyoya's grey eyes flicked over the text, reading everything very carefully, giving little nods here and there. Haruhi glanced over. She was used to being able to toss over a question, "Can you explain this to me?" or "I'm going to make tea, do you want some?" Or "I'm a little chilly, mind if I turn up the thermostat?" Or even "Is it true that you're the reincarnation of the Antichrist?" And he'd give appropriate answers, sometimes confined to yes-no if he was concentrating hard. (The last one earned her a whack upside the head with a rolled up worksheet).

She had been intending to ask something along the lines of whether question C had also made him lose the will to live, and if he knew the correct answer.

Only this instance was different, and her words were immediately lost.

The way he was leaning allowed a very good view down his shirt, something which Haruhi doubted the boy was aware of. Alternatively, he knew perfectly well she could get an eyeful of his abs and was doing it anyway, because he was a little shit like that.

She rolled her eyes and looked away, catching sight of Honey's wicked grin. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. She didn't even bother to dignify him with a response. Appearances surely were deceiving. She needed to remember more often that her little blond senpai wasn't as innocent as he seemed.

Finally, the raven haired boy hummed in understanding, and bent even lower over the table. Damn him and his loose shirts. "Did you find it?"

"I have. It's right here," Kyoya used the end of his pen to circle a collection of numbers. "You wrote down a five instead of a three. Once you fix that, the equation should give you the correct answer- the rest of your working is flawless as far as I can tell."

"Ah, I see! Thank you, Kyo-Chan!"

Studying lead way into lunch, which Haruhi had promised would be homemade. In reality, Kyoya had coerced her into compliance- much to her annoyance- but she figured that gaining the opportunity to finally taste the much elusive Otoro was worthwhile compensation.

She had explicitly drilled into them that she wasn't to be disturbed, and could only roll her eyes when Kyoya showed a complete disregard to that request and took shelter in the kitchen due to the excessive rowdiness of the other Hosts. Unfortunately for him, she had no qualms about making him help her, and very quickly he found himself cutting up vegetables with the bluntest knife in Haruhi's arsenal.

There was no doubt about it, she still didn't trust any of them in the kitchen.

It was then that she put her plan into motion. "Say, Kyoya-senpai? I have an idea… It's very uncool. And while it's not _illegal,_ it _is_ a dick move."

He lowered his knife, an unholy amount of glee in his eyes. "I love it."

Over time, the kitchen slowly became more and more crowded as the other Hosts pleaded to help. (Hikaru and Kaoru had both at first only stared at him. Kyoya could almost feel their judgement. He knew he was a total tool, goddamn it, no need to rub it in). Temple throbbing, Haruhi issued tasks she believed suitable for each boy, and was proven almost spectacularly wrong. Somehow Tamaki managed to trip over Honey, knocking a plate from Mori's hands in the ensuing disaster, and the twins almost upended an entire bottle of washing up liquid in the sink before Haruhi stopped them because, quote _the foam was funny_ unquote.

Morons.

Clinging to her last remaining threads of patience, (she really had absolutely no regrets for what would soon be unfolding), Haruhi delegated Kyoya the task of babysitter, much to his resentment, and finished cooking the food.

Like a kicked puppy, Mori returned to help her serve said food.

"Here." Haruhi placed down the plates she was carrying. Mori did the same, and then took a seat next to his little cousin. "I really hope you like it. I had to starve for three days to afford all this."

"Starve?" Tamaki made a sound akin to a wounded animal, and slowly disintegrated into dust.

The twins sniffed out her lie (but only after a brief yet extremely loud freak out session), and stared at the pile in inordinate disappointment. "We're not cleaning that up."

Kyoya, already well-versed in the art of completely ignoring his so called best friend, sighed and slapped a 1000 yen note into Haruhi's outstretched hand.

She swiped it into her pocket with a smirk. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"That was pure luck and you know it."

"That sounds like something a loser would say." She hummed, around a mouthful of curry.

All in all, Haruhi could well and truly say that it had been a very... eventful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also pry rebellious feminist Kyoya Ootori from my cold, dead hands. Just Kyoya giving approximately zero shits and doing whatever the Hell he likes- because Tamaki has shown him that he can, and damn does it feel good. And then there's protective brother Kyoya raining literal Hell down on anyone who tries to hurt his big sister, or anyone he cares about for that matter
> 
> Also, Hikaru is an awkward dork, and Honey isn't above being a little mischievous


	7. I Would Rather Be Anyone But Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hot, it's sticky... it's Haruhi losing her will to live. 
> 
> After an unexpected sight leaves her shaken, Haruhi winds down with her friends, taking comfort in the solid reassurance of Kasanoda's presence.

The day had barely started, and already Haruhi was wishing it was over.

She woke in a musty haze to the fiery furnaces of Hell.

The air tasted hot, _swelteringly hot_. Somehow she managed to find the energy to peel herself from her futon, heading straight into a delightfully cold shower, and ridding herself of that disgustingly sticky, sweaty feeling.

Throat parched, the tap water she'd tried to down was promptly tossed into the sink, dejectedly spiralling around the plughole and falling into oblivion. Lukewarm and utterly unappealing, she instead turned to a glass of milk, and choked down a meal that felt as though it were melting.

If possible, slipping on her uniform made her feel even closer to death.

For the first time since this whole debacle began, she actually wished that Kyoya was escorting her to school. While there was no doubt that it was troublesome, (no matter how much Kyoya attempted to downplay it, she knew for a fact that stopping by her neighbourhood to pick her up did indeed put them out of their way), his ridiculously overpriced car did come equipped with lots of useful features. More than she was probably aware of, actually.

Like the magical invention that was air conditioning.

Which both the train station and the train itself would lack.

Haruhi glumly considered her options. Neither sounded particularly appealing. If walking the measly distance to catch her train wouldn't end her, the journey itself would land her straight in a casket.

With a sigh, Haruhi checked her bag one last time and spared a moment to text Kyoya, lest he think she'd died during the night. On her way to the kitchen, she collected the magazines Mei had left behind on her last spontaneous visit and moved them to the counter, where her father couldn't possibly manage to trip over them. Then, because she knew how forgetful he was, she stuck a post it note on the fridge reminding the said man to eat.

One last courtesy glance around the apartment had her packing Kyoya's workbook into her already crammed bag, and with a satisfied nod, she grabbed her keys and left.

Briefly, she spared a moment to laugh at her own naivety.

If she thought that _inside_ was hot, she wasn't quite prepared for the wave of heat that hit her the moment she opened the door.

As any self-respecting person would do, Haruhi powered through with only a few scattered curses, (and a wistful fantasy or two of her marching right back around and planting herself before the ajar fridge door).

Every person she passed looked just as haggard as her, tired eyes squinting past the offending sunlight.

She spared a moment of pity for a young man dressed in an all black suit. He was practically knocking on Death's door. _A moment of silence for our fallen comrade, Suit Guy, who was idiotic enough to think he could defeat mother nature, and was proven spectacularly wrong._

Allowing herself a break in the shaded doorway of a shop, Haruhi tried to gather her bearings.

_Tried_ being the operative word.

Even in the heat, a sudden chill ran down her spine.

Haruhi blinked, fighting against her automatic response to glance wildly around, and instead subtly looked off in one direction, adjusted the way her bag rested against her leg, and checked the other.

Nothing.

Well, not entirely _nothing_.

There were still people bustling about, children weaving to and fro, and the incessant clamour of cars, but it was nothing of consequence.

Nothing that would make the hairs stand up on her arms like so.

A deep breath, and then she was scooping her bag into her arms and leaving her sanctuary, practically ploughing through the crowd.

People moved for her.

She may have been on the small side, but when Haruhi squared her shoulders and marched forward, she meant business, and somehow even complete strangers knew that too.

Distancing herself did nothing to relieve the tension in her body.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

It was little more than a primal feeling in her stomach, but when it was performing such outstanding aerobatics, Haruhi was inclined to listen to it.

With shaking hands, she dug out her phone, giving herself a hefty paper cut across her wrist as she did so.

That'll teach her not to stuff her bag so full in the future.

The time said device displayed did not leave her in high spirits at all.

At this hour, Kyoya would already be at school. He was a goody-two-shoes nerd that thrived on punctuality. Despite his pure hatred of mornings, arriving early always allowed him enough time to make certain he hadn't forgotten anything. Not that he ever did, but the option was still there should he need it. Unfortunately, (in this instance at least) punctuality was also something that Tamaki, Honey and Mori also had in common.

_The twins_ , on the other hand, were an entirely different story. They could always be relied on for three things: mischief, lateness, and a constant supply of headaches.

With that in mind, she dialled Hikaru's number, ducking inside the nearby post office doors.

He answered on the third ring, and she was almost deafened by the background noise. "What?"

Surprised by the bite in his voice, Haruhi petered off uncomfortably. "Hikaru...?"

"Oh, it's you. I thought it was the boss calling again." She could almost hear Hikaru rolling his eyes, and flinched at a sudden assault of random sound.

Somewhat concerned, she asked, "Why does it sound like you're in the middle of a riot?"

"Kaoru can't find his tie."

Haruhi failed to see how this was a problem. "You guys have sixteen identical ties. Can't he use one of those?"

Hikaru snorted, and muttered an amused, "Commoners." Haruhi forced herself not to hang up. "Why are you calling, anyway? Shouldn't you be taking the subway by now?"

"About that… I kinda missed my train." The lie slipped off her tongue with ease, sharp eyes scanning the figures passing by the window. "I don't want to be a bother, but would you be able to give me a lift?"

"Of course. Anything for our favourite toy." For once, she didn't correct him. Even if she wanted to, she didn't think she had the energy to spare to create even the most simple of arguments. "Hold on a second. Kaoru! Have you found it yet?"

The muffled voice of his twin returned, "It was in your laundry pile, Hikaru!"

"Crap. I'll call you back once we're in the car." He promised, before hanging up.

Briefly, she wondered whether she would regret reaching out to them for help.

The answer was yes. Yes she would. But, aside from changing her name and moving to America, she wasn't entirely sure how she could escape them. And even then that would probably fail.

By now, she was resigned to her fate.

Fifteen minutes later, she found herself crammed in the twin's car. Thankfully, for the sake of her sanity and their continued existence, they didn't rock up in a limo. The car itself was actually very spacious, but the twins had insisted on the three of them occupying the back seat, and had promptly sandwiched her between them.

As the car pulled away, she caught a glimpse of some very familiar eyes, and the whip of a coat disappearing around the street corner.

Kaoru probably, most definitely, absolutely noticed her shaking. He shot her a concerned look from the corner of his eye, yet said nothing. Instead, his hand tightened over hers by just the slightest amount, a silent support that she was secretly much appreciative of.

Outwardly, she pretended not to notice, which was actually pretty easy when Hikaru threw his arm around her shoulders and started babbling on about something she wasn't paying attention to.

They pulled into the grounds of Ouran after an agonisingly long journey (it was really only about ten minutes, which was twenty minutes too long, in her opinion). The twins ventured into the sunlight first, yawning and stretching languidly.

As an afterthought, Hikaru turned around and stooped down into a cheeky bow. "Milady," With a roguish smile, he offered her his hand.

"I can do it myself, you know." She replied, amused, yet she allowed him to help her out all the same.

Squinting against the brightness, her eyes sought the main building at the precisely the right moment to catch Kyoya's face falling into utter relief.

_Shit._

She didn't call him. Or even so much as give him a simple text to let him know she wasn't dead in some ditch somewhere.

He was going to _slaughter_ her.

Absently raking a hand through his hair, he waited for the three of them to make their way over to him. After all, why would he, the self-respecting Shadow King of the Host Club waste effort _walking?_ It was basic, almost insulting in its simplicity. They had perfectly functioning legs, they would damn well use them. _Especially_ after whatever fresh Hell he'd probably been through.

Tamaki, however, had different ideas.

All of a sudden a blur of blond shot past him and pounced on the unsuspecting girl.

As ever, Tamaki squeezed her hard enough to crush all her internal organs. But who cares? It's not like she needed working lungs anyway.

"Oh great, a hug."

"You're late." Kyoya painfully ignored the way she was being swung around like a ragdoll.

"I missed my train." The dead-eyed way she was staring at him suggested a proper explanation would be in order later, when it was just the two of them- well, three if Mori could slip away- and her feet were not acting much like a propeller from Tamaki's incessant spinning.

"You didn't call."

"My phone was on silent." An apology, cleverly disguised as an excuse. "Tamaki-senpai, you're really not helping my headache right now. Please stop." Before he had time to process her words, she pinched the fleshy part of his underarm, prising the excitable boy off her.

Whimpering pitifully, Tamaki was seized by the twins and promptly ribbed ten ways to Sunday.

Meanwhile, Honey had popped out of thin air, her arm a prisoner to his, and was gazing up at her with teary eyes. "Are you really sick, Haru-chan? Are you gonna be okay?"

"It's nothing, I'll be fine." She assured, before reeling back as something cold touched her cheek. The bottle was glazed with condensation, held in front of her face by a rather aloof Kyoya. "Um... senpai?"

"You're feeling dizzy, are you not?" Kyoya had perfected that annoying skill of talking in a way that would have come across as condescending, had it come from anyone who needed to resort to condescension to put across the point that they were better than you. "You're dehydrated. Drink some water and you should feel better soon."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess." Haruhi took an uncertain sip, before freezing. "Please don't tell me this water comes from some spring of the gods or something." She didn't add the ' _that I would then have to pay for'_ in case he took it as an invitation.

Kyoya adjusted his glasses. "Don't be ridiculous, it's just regular spring water."

"Wow!" Honey exclaimed, crashing against her back. Haruhi just barely managed to stop herself from spilling the water everywhere. "You're so prepared, Kyo-Chan!"

"My family has an interest in the medical business. It's only natural." While everyone was distracted, he mouthed sharply; _Meet me at lunch_ to the girl. Yep, she was _totally_ fucked. With that said, and a roll of his eyes to spare, he snagged Tamaki from the twin's clutches. "Come on, moron. Class is starting soon."

They swiftly excused themselves, Kyoya sending a quick text to reign back Tachibana and his team from tearing up Tokyo looking for a certain brunette.

.

.

* * *

.

.

"Fujioka!"

The brunette turned at the sound of her name, smile ready. Kasanoda ambled towards her, genial, the brightest she'd seen him all day. He waved, but she barely noticed because there in his hands was a box of strawberries. From above, the heavens sang, illuminating the fruits with an ethereal glow, she could almost smell the sweet, godly scent from where she was standing and was sure there were stars in her eyes.

Kasanoda must have noticed, too, for he chuckled and held them out of her reach.

Denied of her precious strawberries, she shook her head out, finally looking at him properly. "Hey there."

His eyes swept up and down her- but not in a lecherous way. The way Kyoya's did every day, a quick, not entirely subtle once-over assessment to check her condition. "You're looking a lot better today."

Haruhi smiled ruefully. "It's the strawberries."

"Ha. Of course it is." He took a seat on the grass. She settled back down next to him without question, thankful they were in the shade, and flopped down on her back. "You had that test as well, right? Think it went well?"

"Sure." She barely managed to smother her grimace. "You know, I'm not the only one that looks happier today. You're smiling for once, did something good happen?"

She was totally not trying to change the subject, shut up. Kasanoda, however, was more than happy to go with it regardless of however unsubtle she was being. Well, _happy_ probably wasn't the best term to use, but there was no need to sweat the details.

"Nothing." Kasanoda shrugged, playing with a stray thread from his uniform. Haruhi continued to stare pointedly, at which point he flushed bright red. "I said it's nothing, quit staring already!"

Accepting this guarded behaviour with ease, she merely plucked a strawberry from the bowl. "Okay, if you're sure."

The redhead settled back down, eyes focused on the clouds overhead. "You'll only laugh at me."

_There it is._

"What makes you think that?" She copied his pose, delicately nibbling on the fruit.

"Because it's a stupid thing to be happy about."

Haruhi refrained from pointing out that there was nothing really _stupid_ that you could possibly be happy about, as he seemed on the verge of opening up. Or, alternatively, opening up a _wound._ His fiddling with the thread had increased in aggressiveness, and was now threatening to split his thumb open.

"It's just… Nice that people aren't so scared of me anymore… I guess." His eyes remained fixed solely on the sky above. "I can walk in a room without everyone freaking out about it. This morning I even caught eyes with this chick... I didn't even know her, and before looking at any chick would terrify her, but she just... smiled at me. It was- ow!"

He cut off, ears a brilliant scarlet, and sucked on his thumb.

"Did you cut yourself?"

"Yeah. Damn thing."

"I have a plaster in my bag somewhere." She pulled out the box, taking in the cutesy designs. "Oh. You don't mind, do you?" Upon hearing confirmation, Haruhi carefully stuck an offendingly bright one over his wound. In her defence, it was the first one she grabbed. Also seeing him decked in a teddy bear plaster was just plain funny. "There we go. You should be more careful next time."

"You're a lifesaver."

He picked at a strawberry, so she took this distraction as an opportunity to chip in her two cents. "You know, I don't think that's stupid at all. It seems like you're making new friends, I'm glad to hear that."

He hesitated. "Class has been a whole lot better since you all helped me out. It's… kinda nice to get involved with everything."

"Like the Gardening Club?"

At this, she was treated to a rare Kasanoda True Smile™. "Yeah. I like it a lot. Everyone there is loud, but it reminds me of the Host Club... and they're all pretty cool guys, too. Well, uh, and girls, I guess. We're growing all sorts of cool stuff in there, and they said I can take some home if I want. Do you want any?"

"I would, but my apartment block shares a communal garden, I don't think we're allowed to plant things. I appreciate you thinking about me, though."

His head drooped, disappointed, but only for a brief second. "Then you can just visit mine. Tetsuya and I are already planning on what to fill it with- he's fighting for a big peach tree." He spread his arms wide, evidently excited. "We're going to make a herb garden as well, and have lots of flowering trees."

"That'll be nice." Haruhi enthused, around a strawberry. "Hey, how about you make a massive project out of it. Instead of it just being you and Tetsuya, why not give everyone at your syndicate a chance to get involved? You're always saying you want to hang out with them more. This is the perfect chance to bond with them."

"Do you think they'll want to?"

She caught her shrug halfway through, and instead shot him an encouraging smile. "Well, you never know unless you ask. But I would think they'll be really happy. From the way you talk about them, they obviously enjoy being around you. This'll be fun for all of you."

"Yeah." He gave a content sigh. "I'll ask them tonight."

"It's a plan."

"They… They want to make today a regular game night, too. Tetsuya is organising it all. He said it's a surprise, so I'm not allowed to know much."

"Oh, really?" A soft breeze tickled her hair, and a fond sense of reminiscence washed over her. "I used to like playing board games with my friends in middle school. It was a nice way to pass the time when it was wet outside. I'm sure you'll like it."

"Yeah?" He was back to picking at threads. "I don't know. I've never really… played games with anyone before."

"Hey, you don't need to worry so much about it." She assured, lightly. "It'll be fine."

He was still all slumped over. "But what if they expect me to be good at them?"

"Well, they won't think any less of you for not knowing- you surround yourself with really genuine people, after all." Haruhi's hand came to rest over the crook of his elbow. "The rules are easy to pick up, and someone will be willing to teach you. You'll get the hang of it pretty quickly. If you're shy about asking for help, maybe go to Tetsuya? He's always nice."

He managed a crooked smile, which swiftly evolved into a real one, so bright it was almost blinding. "Thanks, Fujioka. You're really good at this… Talking and stuff."

"You did bring me food. It's the least I could do."

They lapsed into silence, staring up at the clouds.

"You keep looking at your phone." He murmured, after a while.

Observant. She'd have to take notice of that. "I'm wondering where Kyoya-senpai is. His bag's disappeared. He told me to go on ahead while he looked for it, but it sure is taking him a while."

"Maybe he left already?"

"Well, I hope he hasn't." Haruhi laughed. "He's supposed to be driving me home."

"That's kind of him. Didn't think Ootori was the generous sort."

"Kyoya-senpai prides himself on being a walking contradiction." She agreed, amicably. "In any case, it's just because he doesn't want me taking the train anymore. It's too risky, apparently."

"Risky?" Kasanoda echoed, forehead creased with concern. "Why would it be risky?"

"Um. No reason." When his expression still didn't change, Haruhi softened into tentative reassurance. "You don't have to be so worried about me, I've got it under control."

Evidently realising he wouldn't get much more out of her than that, the redhead settled back down, sprawling flat across the grass.

"You're my friend."

He didn't even look at her. Kasanoda merely remained with his head tilted up, eyes closed, expression one of utter peace.

She smiled. "Yeah. Text me about how the game night goes, alright? And don't forget to ask about the garden."

"I will. And you call if you need someone to talk to. Or for anything, really."

"Right." He almost shoved his pinkie up her nostril in an attempt to get it noticed. With a laugh, she carefully moved the offending limb just enough that it wasn't an immediate concern to her eyeballs. "What are you doing?"

"A promise. The chicks in the club said you can't break it, or your finger falls off." Haruhi bit back her retort of that being something only a child would fall for, and obediently hooked pinkies with him. "Good. You better keep to your word."

"I do want to keep all ten fingers."

While Haruhi had a mini existential crisis about whether she'd consider herself to have ten fingers, or two thumbs and eight fingers, a shadow fell over them. Haruhi blinked passed the sun, Kyoya's slightly disgruntled figure blurring into view.

"Ootori-senpai." Kasanoda greeted, with a little acknowledging nod.

"Kasanoda."

"Did you find your bag in the end?" As an afterthought, she extended the box to him. "Strawberry?"

Only mildly bemused, he took one before holding his bag up as evidence. "The twins thought it would be _utterly_ hilarious if they hid it from me. They were mistaken."

Haruhi brushed the dirt from her clothes, and gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. "At ease, soldier. I'm sure they won't be eager to repeat that mistake any time soon."

He shrugged, the movement holding such grace. "I suppose so. In any case, Tachibana is waiting for us."

Haruhi smiled at the redhead. "See you tomorrow, Kasanoda. And thank you for the strawberries, they were delicious."

"You can keep the rest. I'll see you around."

They traded waves, and parted ways.

The moment he was out of earshot, Kyoya returned to business.

"Despite your disappearing act at lunch, I did manage to grab a quick word with Mori-senpai." He dismissed her protests with a wave of his hand. "Yes, I am perfectly aware that Hikaru and Kaoru kidnapped you. The fact remains that you still weren't present, so I'll do my best to fill you in on the important details."

"Which are?"

"That he is aware of the entire situation that happened before school, and is equally disappointed that you didn't text to let us know what had happened." Which she had been expecting. Kyoya, after getting over his emotional constipation, had glared at her the whole of hosting hours for scaring the absolute crap out of him, and Mori hadn't done a thing to stop him. "On other matters, there a several people at his dojo that he trusts without question. While they haven't been briefed on the finer details as of yet, these is a young couple who are prepared to do some digging for us."

"Nothing illegal, I hope."

Kyoya smothered a smile, having noticed the underlying threat. "Haruhi, you know I wouldn't ask an incriminating favour of anyone. Not even Tamaki, despite the fact that there's no doubt he'd be more than willing."

"He'd call a massive intervention, more like. Complete with a hundred and ten slide animated presentation detailing a plan to correct your entire life."

Kyoya actually took a moment to consider that. In the end, he made no effort to deny it.

"The plan is to have this couple casually converse with some of Takeda's neighbours, acting as though the two are interested in moving into the area. Hopefully this probing will lead to some information we could find useful. Even then, it'll be an asset to have connections in Takeda's neighbourhood."

She studied him for moment, before sighing. "You don't think it'll do any good."

"I think," He pulled open the door with more force than necessary, waving her inside first. "I think it's a useless attempt. I have some misgivings about how forthcoming these people will be to a couple of strangers, no matter how charming they could be. But maybe that could just be the pessimist in me talking."

"In conclusion?"

He reclined into the seat, chin moving in a smooth upwards arc. "I think we shouldn't get our hopes up, that's all."

"That'll be easy." She said, with a sad smile.

He nudged her gently, an action which she returned, and Haruhi wished life could be simple again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kasanoda is such a pure little cinnamon roll, I love my tomato son to pieces   
> (No, Kyoya most certainly wasn't worried, shut up)  
> And then there's the twins, living their best life, annoying the boy for the shits and giggles


	8. Just Wing It: Life, Grades, Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruhi should have expected it really. Alas, when Mei unexpectedly rocked up at her house pleading for help on her upcoming test, there was nobody more suited for the job than Kyoya.   
> It was only too bad the two seemed to hate each other on principle.

Toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, Haruhi playfully nudged Kyoya's foot on her way to the kitchen. Caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness, he stirred, a startled noise rumbling in the back of his throat.

She retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and set it down in front of the boy, smiling angelically when he scowled at her, toothpaste trickling down her chin. After one failed attempt at speaking that almost resulted in Kyoya getting sprayed with toothpaste, he pushed her back towards the bathroom.

"You told me to keep you awake." Haruhi reminded, now able to form coherent words.

Fingers sluggishly dragging through his hair, Kyoya mentally questioned his choice in friends. "I'm beginning to regret that decision."

"It's your own fault." She splashed some water over her face, levelling him with a severe look as she began patting it dry. "I shouldn't have to be around for you to go to bed at a decent time, Kyoya-senpai."

He dismissed her words with a lazy wave of his hand, only sinking further into his bean bag as he lifted his book back onto his lap. "Inconsequential. I'm hardly about to drop dead, so do quit making such a fuss."

She heaved a sigh and dropped down next to him, almost knocking not only his supplies to the floor, but him as well. A beat, and then she shoved him off anyway. He deserved it, for all the worry he caused her, clattering into the apartment looking more dead than alive. Kyoya's extended legs came back down on the plush seat with a heavy thump. Exasperated, he blew a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

"I hate you."

Her expression morphed into the picture of innocence.

Kyoya kicked her off the bean bag.

A sudden hammering at the door interrupted Haruhi's attempt to trip the boy as he clambered back to his feet. Kyoya himself froze in an extremely awkward crouch, head slowly arcing over to her.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

Brows furrowed, Haruhi shook her head.

By some telepathic conversation, Kyoya cautiously led the way over, Haruhi snatching up a broom along the way. Fingers ghosting the handle, Kyoya turned back to the girl. "Kitchen window."

"Kitchen window," She agreed, softly, wired up for a mad sprint to escape the apartment should danger be awaiting them.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, and edged the door open a crack.

Steel orbs blinked once.

Twice.

Three times.

With a relieved sigh, the tension left his body, and he swung it open completely.

More than a little bewildered, Mei peered around the boy. Peered was probably the wrong word to use here, considering it was Mei. Always one for big gestures, she leaned with her entire body and almost fell face-first against the doorframe as she did so, smiling when she caught sight of her friend. "Haruhi!"

"This is above my pay grade." Kyoya stuck his hands up and retreated back into the living room, clearly annoyed at the several years worth of stress that last minute or so caused him.

"You're not getting paid," Haruhi called after him, replacing him at the doorway without protest, and tossing the broom aside when her friend cast it a dubious look.

It apparently landed on several metallic objects and a stray cat, while also bitch-slapping Kyoya right across the back. He threw his hands up in indignation, nailing her in the head with a scrunched up bit of paper.

"Hi."

She could practically see Mei sweatdrop. "Hey."

"I told you to call ahead next time you were planning on dropping by."

"I need help." The blonde flashed her some perfectly crafted puppy dog eyes, raising a sheet of paper into view. Oh lord, Haruhi had never seen so many crosses in her life. Circled at the top of the test was a sloppy five. A _five_. "My retake is tomorrow." Sweet Jesus, she was _fucked_.

Haruhi aborted her attempt at cracking her knuckles (and ignored Mei's obvious judgement at the failure), ushering her inside.

"Senpai, how quickly can you teach half a term's worth of Algebra?"

The boy adjusted his glasses, evidently cautious as he looked between both girls. "That depends on the deadline, I suppose. I'd hazard a guess at two weeks or so, that is if she works on it every day. I do assume we're talking about Mei here?"

Haruhi's smile was strained. "How about a single day?"

That earned her a flick directly in the centre of her forehead. "Sleep talk when you're asleep, idiot. Teaching that kind of content in such a short amount of time is impossible."

"I know, I know." She assured, absently rubbing the throbbing area. "I'm not asking you for a miracle, but maybe if you help with what she's finding especially difficult, Mei could scrape enough marks to pass?"

Kyoya sighed.

This girl really would be the death of him.

"Fine. Give me that test, I'll compile a list of areas to focus on. In the meantime, Haruhi, you cover the basics of Algebra with Mei. Having a solid knowledge of the rules will surely benefit her, and make my job less difficult."

With that said, the three buckled down and got to work.

Or, more accurately _tried_ to get to work. "Reading this is physically painful." He deadpanned, easily ducking under the textbook Mei lobbed at his head.

"Say that again, four eyes!"

Haruhi somehow cut between the two, but not before Mei had grabbed a handful of the boy's shirt and demanded him to keep his mouth shut, or she'd punch his lights out. Kyoya didn't seem perturbed by this treatment in the slightest. He merely continued to skim through the test, finger tapping against his thigh as if there was nothing wrong with being accosted and threatened with severe bodily harm.

Strangely, the weirdest part about that situation wasn't the ticking time bomb that was Mei's oncoming nuclear meltdown, but the restless drumming of Kyoya's fingers. Yes, _plural_. In a matter of seconds it had now evolved into more than the singular appendage.

A distraction appeared, in the form of Ranka sweeping into the room with a trilling laugh. "I'm off to work, play nicely now kids." He spotted Mei, eyes lighting up with glee. "Mei-chan! It's so lovely to see you. How's your father doing?"

Guilty, she dropped Kyoya, the boy not so much as batting an eyelid as he smothered out the wrinkles in his shirt. "He's doing well, Ranka-otosan. That dress looks really good on you, by the way."

He laughed, waving away the compliment. "The credit goes to you, it's such fine work. I can't wait to see what you make next. Now, give my love to your father." With that, he swooped down and pressed a kiss to Haruhi's head. "I'll be back at nine, okay, Haruhi? Take care of yourself."

"I'll leave your dinner in the fridge." She promised, trying not to laugh as her father affectionately ruffled Kyoya's hair, much to the boy's displeasure. "Be safe."

Kyoya echoed the parting, his free hand working on flattening his now thoroughly tousled hair.

And with that, her father swept out of the flat much like a whirlwind, closing the door behind him.

With a loud snap, Kyoya opened his notebook and began jotting things down. He must have sensed their gazes, for he glanced up quite boredly. "While I know watching me must be _truly_ fascinating, I believe we have a lot of work to do and very limited time in which to do it."

That spurred them into action.

Soon Haruhi was dictating basic rules to the bleached-blonde, who nodded determinedly and tried to take it all in, while Kyoya set about compiling that list of his.

Once he was done, he simply put his elbows on the table and watched Haruhi- her little hand gestures, the way her head cocked to the side when she struggled to articulate her thoughts. She celebrated her victory of the short lecture with a large stretch, during which Kyoya made Mei jump by slapping a fat textbook in front of her and beginning by explaining how to rearrange more complicated algebraic equations.

Haruhi didn't quite know whether or not she should be concerned about the intensity that Kyoya was eyeing up her water bottle. He looked mere moments away from snatching it up and attempted to drown himself with it. It took no longer than twenty minutes, but they seemed to be the most painful ones of his entire life.

He left the blonde with some questions to work through, evidently hoping and praying beyond all reason that she understood. If he had to repeat himself, Haruhi was almost certain she'd have to guard the front door to prevent Kyoya from throwing himself down the stairs.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the scratching of Mei's pen against the paper.

Eventually, Haruhi turned to ask what topic they were to focus on next.

Only, she hesitated.

His eyes were closed, lashes dark against his skin.

Across the table Mei's head was cocked, staring at him curiously.

For once, he seemed at peace, dozing softly, chin propped up against his hand. Breathing steady, even. Utterly relaxed.

Wow. He'd actually managed to doze off will sitting up. Impressive.

Finding it somewhat unfortunate, as she would've preferred that he get more sleep while he could, Haruhi gently tapped his arm. He roused in confusion, eyes blinking drowsily, refocusing through the hazy mist of sleep. "Hmm?"

"You fell asleep, dumbass." Mei supplied, helpfully beaning him in the head with one of the many discarded balls of paper.

Scrubbing his hand over his eyes, the boy straightened up. "Right, yes. Where was I?"

She softened, nose scrunched up in what could have been concern. "What's up with you? You're like a zombie. Damn, if I ace this test, I'm making you take a nap."

He lazily waved her words away. "Daydreams aside, let's focus on those equations again, shall we?"

Haruhi, needless to say, wasn't having any of that bullshit. "Kyoya-senpai, why don't you go make some tea? Hopefully it'll wake you up a bit."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Haruhi merely stared him down.

Apparently realising that refusing wasn't an option, Kyoya climbed to his feet with a resigned sigh. "Make sure she does them." He warned, before disappearing through the door, smacking his head on the low frame as he went. Mei visibly face-palmed, and Haruhi felt herself unconsciously wince as he cursed.

What an absolute _dork_.

The instant he was gone, the blonde flicked her hair over her shoulder, turning sharp eyes on her friend. "Next time you're free, we're having a girl's day. Got it?"

Haruhi smothered a smile, knowing well enough that when Mei used that tone, she wasn't asking.

"I'll check my calendar."

By that, she meant, she'd check _Kyoya's_ calendar.

Being attention-orientated to the point of bordering on somewhat obsessive, the little app on Kyoya's phone was absolutely plastered with notes. Schedules for upcoming days, appointments, little reminders for himself and the people he surrounded himself with.

(In that past, he'd actually texted her to remind her of a dentist appointment that she was _already in the middle of)_.

So, with a little bit of persistence from Mei (Read: whining), she picked up his phone and typed in the pin, having the courtesy to at least warn him beforehand with a quick, "Senpai, I'm checking the calendar, kay?"

To preface this, Haruhi would likely to clearly state, for the record, that Kyoya usually didn't mind her touching his phone. In fact, he'd been the one to encourage the action, rather than bombarding him with pointless questions. (Which was rude, but so Kyoya-like that it was laughable)

To make it easier, he'd given her his pin, and she his, so if they so wished, they could both access each other's devices.

(Not that Kyoya had ever tried to use hers. Just looking at it seemed to physically pain him. Several times Haruhi was forced to stop his entirely unsubtle attempts to get her to upgrade it. By now, her opposition was mostly out of spite).

So, suddenly having the device plucked from her hands was somewhat of a shock. Mostly because Kyoya had been across the other side of the apartment 0.3 seconds ago, and was now, somehow, directly behind her. He gave a smile that seemed far too strained at the edges, and wandered back to the kitchen with a lame excuse of needing to text Tamaki.

 _Lame_ , because so far Kyoya had given approximately zero fucks about that self same thing. If he desperately needed to send a text while she was in possession of his phone, he had literally no shame in dictating it aloud for her to type out for him.

"Sure…" She replied, awkwardly, watching him go.

With a frown, she recapped everything that had happened within the last couple of days that would have led him to this. The list was short (mostly because she had to search back to the previous week to even find something remotely bad), and while it did exist, Kyoya wasn't a moody enough bitch to utilise it out of pure pettiness. (At least, with her he wasn't).

Still utterly bemused, she checked over Mei's answers, highlighting the incorrect parts. She'd improved since the first attempt, the hopeful part of her mind wondering whether she could actually manage to score a decent grade rather than scraping a pass at the rate she was going.

Kyoya returned with two mugs of tea just as she was remarking the questions, handing one over to her. The boy kept the other for himself, gently blowing on the liquid before taking a tentative sip.

Grey orbs raised over the rim, locking onto Mei's. The blonde girl pouted, clearly annoyed at being left out. "Do I not get one?"

"You hit me in the head. Make your own."

"Kyoya-senpai," Haruhi intoned, warningly. "Be nice."

He scoffed, but schooled his expression into one of false politeness. "There's still some in the teapot. Take a five minute break if you're so desperate."

She did, stomping off to go grab her own warm drink, and scowled at him the entirety of her oh, so generous break.

He grilled her intensely until Ranka arrived home, only pausing for necessary breaks, an important phone call (or so Kyoya claimed), and dinner, at which point Mei was no more than a puddle on the floor, practically oozing from all the knowledge she was struggling to retain. Kyoya offered to take her home, rather than let her brave the darkened streets.

Apparently they hadn't killed each other, as she received a text half an hour later from the boy stating that they both _should_ be home safe.

The should was mildly concerning, but Haruhi was too tired to press, and so let it be.

Kyoya evidently decided to turn in early, as he didn't reply to her text asking if there had been any more updates on the Takeda situation. To be honest, she couldn't blame him, considering how close he looked to dropping dead earlier, despite his attempts to make her believe otherwise.

But there was that small smidge of irritation.

She hadn't heard anything since Monday. Hell, Kasanoda had gushed to her on Tuesday about how successful the game night was- his enthusiasm a blessing of a distraction. But that blissful ignorance could only last so long. Usually she would say that no news was good news, except she couldn't help but feel on edge being plunged into the unknown like this.

Still, it wasn't like Kyoya could do anything about it. He couldn't exactly provide her with information he himself didn't have access to.

The lack of progress was annoying, sure. But it wasn't the end of the world, no matter what Kyoya might think.

Haruhi wasn't afraid to admit that his self-destructive behaviour was worrying her. If he continued at this rate, he would become extremely sick- he'd barely even managed to stomach half a plate of food, when a week before he would have been desperate for seconds.

As ridiculous as it sounded, she wondered whether an intervention might be needed.

See, the thing about Kyoya, she'd come to realise, was that he was terrified of any lapse from perfection.

He constantly worked himself half to death. Strived to remain at the top of his class. Pulled all the strings behind the scenes in the Host Club. He even catered to Tamaki's every whim, and willingly followed along with even the strangest of notions, because he considered Tamaki's happiness to be most important. The blond had suffered enough, what little Kyoya could do to relieve that, he would.

That was what friends were for, right?

And here, where the stakes were so much higher, where a single mistake could be disastrous, he struggled through sleepless nights and migraines and paranoia. Researching, and planning and protecting, on top of all else, was soon becoming too much for him.

Kyoya was splitting apart at the seams faster than he was able to sew himself back together.

Of course, in pure Kyoya-like stubbornness, he internalised it all.

He would smile, act as normal as he could, but the cracks in that mask of his were slowly growing larger. As each day passed, she watched in forced silence as more and more of it crumbled away. Somewhere in there was that five year old, young and earnest and desperate to prove himself, hidden away for all these years. He'd built himself these walls, this persona that was entirely fake but _strong_ , brick by brick from the shadows.

What would be left, she wondered, when it all came crashing down?

That night, she fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming about runaway carriages, and roads that led to nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haruhi is literally the exasperated Steve to Mei and Kyoya's beautifully accurate Bucky and Sam. Wouldn't be surprised if the car scene happened when Kyoya dropped her home
> 
> Also Ranka has just kinda adopted this tol grumpy son that hangs in his house and eats his food?


	9. How To Be A Failure 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruhi is tired of playing games, and Kyoya just plain fucks up.

"You're going to get a headache lying like that." Kyoya warned, idly drumming his fingers against the table. "Prop your head up on a pillow."

She ignored him, instead focusing her attention on her phone. Hikaru had stolen the device three days ago to download a few pointless games (and to take a shit ton of photos, most of which featured the other members of the host club. She may or may not have set a very disgruntled one of Kyoya as his contact picture, for the sheer purpose of embarrassing him).

Upon receiving no reply, he nudged her with his foot. "Hey, are you listening to me?"

"Not really, no."

So she may or may not be slightly addicted to this platform game.

Sue her.

He rolled his eyes and flipped to the next page of his book. "Well, alright. Don't complain to me if you're hurting later."

"No wonder Tamaki refers to you as the mother-figure." She teased, but flipped over nevertheless, resting her head on his leg. "Is this better, O' Great One?"

"Last time I checked, I happen to be human, not a pillow."

"You're comfortable." She replied, simply. Which just about settled it, really. He knew he was trapped there, doomed to slowly die of thirst, until his bones either eroded away, or the girl finally decided to move. While slowly pushing her off his lap would have been entertaining, a crime like that was surely illegal, and would likely trigger whatever semi-magical alarms Tamaki possessed to alert him of perceived threats to Haruhi's safety. "Plus it stops your nagging. Deal with it."

An aggravated groan followed, as her little pixelated character died. She restarted the game with a huff, redoubling her attention on beating her high score.

Unfortunately for her, Kyoya had other ideas.

The sudden shift of his body as he attempted to catch a glimpse of what she was doing almost tossed her bodily through the window, straight out onto the busy road. Which was hardly even an exaggeration. Her phone practically bounced off two walls, the table, possibly the ceiling, before coming to rest in front of her. (In reality, it had slipped from her hands and landed there, but that was far too boring for her liking).

"What?" She asked, having recovered from her near-death experience, sticking her tongue out at him as she settled back down against him.

His head was still cocked to the side, like a curious puppy, so she took the liberty of explaining before he could embarrass himself further.

"It's a game, senpai. Hikaru downloaded it onto my phone." She angled the screen upwards, so he could see more easily. "Look," She said, grabbing his hand and waving it until he relinquished control over to the girl. "You tap the screen like this to move the little character up, and swipe to make it go sideways. Simple, right?"

He tapped experimentally, and almost immediately collided with an obstacle, essentially killing the sprite. "You murdered it," Haruhi complained, in a light hearted deadpan. "You had one job, senpai."

His nose crinkled up with obvious displeasure.

She dismissed it in favour of re-starting the game, humming contently under her breath. "Oh," She murmured, distractedly. "I forgot to tell you, Mei got her results back yesterday. Apparently she barely passed, but she's still taking it as a victory. She asked me to thank you for her."

"Did she now?" He asked, with a smirk.

"Well, no," The girl admitted, the tip of her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. "But I inferred it. She is grateful, you know, no matter how standoffish she can be. She knows she wouldn't have passed without your help." Her eyes flashed up to meet his, shooting him a proud smile. Unbeknownst to her, her sprite died once again. "You did good."

His expression morphed from displeasure, to flat out disdain. Him, _The_ Kyoya Ootori being _nice?_ The mere _idea_ was utterly preposterous. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. "I only helped because you-" He halted suddenly, very obviously backtracking. "... Because I didn't have a choice. You would've press-ganged me into assisting her, regardless of my opinion on the matter."

"You make it sound like I held you at gunpoint." She reached up and flicked his forehead for good measure. Or, at least, _attempted_ to. His hand closed around her wrist, and carefully redirected the offending weapon away from his face. "Admit it, you _wanted_ to help. You're a nice guy, Kyoya-senpai, despite how you like to act."

"Absolutely the fuck not." Was his reply, and he would've got up to escape the sudden change of topic had Haruhi not reclaimed him as her resting place.

She rolled her eyes, and patted the only conceivable body part she could reach from this current position, his knee. "If you say so."

His scathing reply was interrupted by a buzz in his pocket, which reverberated through her back and elicited a noise of surprise. He checked the device with a forced air of calm, the girl studying how the muscles in his face reflexively tensed.

"Who's that?"

It took a moment before Kyoya could drag his gaze away, and even then he seemed distracted. "Just Tamaki being a moron."

Despite his dismissive tone, Haruhi sensed that something was amiss. Flashing him purely innocent eyes, she pushed further. "Is everything okay? You seem a little... tense."

"I'm fine." He insisted, much sharper than he intended, for she noticed how he visibly softened. "I'm fine," He repeated, far more gentle this time.

Instead of feeling relieved, a surge of anger took over her. She claimed his face in her hands and pulled him closer to her level so she could stare him down. "You're lying to me. I'm not stupid, you know, and I'm getting really tired of waiting for you to come clean yourself."

"Of course I'm not." He scoffed, extracting each finger with care. "What could have possibly given you that ridiculous idea?"

Internally, Haruhi thought that the boy should be forever grateful that there was not any object in the vicinity that could act as a weapon, blunt or otherwise.

It saved him from a very untimely death.

"Oh, I don't know," She deadpanned, almost hearing the depressed wind whistling past. "It couldn't possibly be from how weirdly you've been acting lately. Not at all. How stupid of me to think that. Clearly I can't even trust my own _eyes_ anymore."

"You're being dramatic."

"And you're avoiding the topic." She reminded.

Kyoya heaved a long-suffering sigh, but maintained his stance. "I'm not keeping anything from you, Haruhi."

She stared up at him for a long moment, before quietly shaking her head. "Alright." She got up, carelessly dusting off her knees. Just short of entering her room, she glanced over her shoulder, a sad smile playing across her features. "You're a terrible liar, by the way."

She caught the flicker of confusion morphing into surprise, before the door clicked shut between them. Taking a seat at her desk, the girl obsessively re-organised everything in it, forcing herself to relax. She was just straightening the pencils sticking up out of a mug when there was a hesitant knock from behind.

When she didn't allow him entry, she heard the boy settle with his back against the door. "Are you mad at me?"

Haruhi exhaled, and copied his pose from the other side of the door. "No." Clear hesitation followed. "Well… I don't know. Maybe, I guess?"

"How decisive."

"Oh, shut up." She huffed, half amused. Almost immediately, her shoulders gradually drooped down. "Senpai… why did you snatch your phone off me the other day?"

In all honesty, she'd barely glanced at the device since then, too worried about the situation repeating itself. She'd been tempted, of course. So, so tempted to just see for herself what he was hiding from her. Kyoya had been stupid enough to leave it in his jacket pocket, right in plain view of her. But her morals won the ensuing struggle, and she left it there, wondering whether or not she made the right choice.

"Am I not entitled to my privacy?"

Her head arced up to stare at the ceiling. "You are." She agreed, just as evenly, but there was hurt edging into her tone. "But you've also previously told me that I'm free to use it when I like. If that wasn't the case, it would've been nice to let me know beforehand, don't you think?"

"That was a mistake on my part." He conceded, and silence fell upon them.

Her fingers tugged at a lock of hair. "Do you not trust me anymore?"

There was an audible hitch in his breath.

Before he could even begin to _process_ the question, let alone _respond,_ his phone starting ringing.

Picking at a loose thread in her shirt, Haruhi called out bitterly, "I suppose you have to take that?" Her tugging increased in strength the more angered she became. "Don't mind me. I can step outside if you'd prefer, then maybe you wouldn't have to feel so guilty for lying to my face."

"Haruhi-" He was clearly becoming agitated. "It's… It's complicated."

"More complicated than what's _already_ happening?"

"I need to take this." He murmured, reluctantly.

She threw her hands in the air. "Do what you want. I'm not stopping you."

Kyoya, however, didn't move. "Listen," He ventured, somewhat hesitantly. "I admit that I've been withholding certain details, but you're stressed enough as it is. At the time, it seemed logical not to worsen your burden."

Her voice was low, dangerous. "That's not for you to decide, Kyoya-senpai."

Apparently Kyoya lacked any and all survival instincts, for her ignored her warning tone and took a swan dive straight through what was remarkably thin ice. "I'm responsible for what happens to you. I made a promise to your father and I intend to keep it."

"That doesn't change anything!" She snapped, growing increasingly colder by the second. "What I can and cannot handle it up to me."

"You think I liked lying to you? Because I didn't. But you can't sleep at night, you're tired all the time, and don't think for a second that I haven't noticed how you've become more anxious. _Keeping secrets,_ as you call it, was for your own good."

"If that's your criteria, then you're no better suited than me!" The door rattled as he flinched, startled by the unexpected volume of her voice. "You think _I_ haven't noticed the concealer under your eyes? If you're going to try to hide those bags, at least do it well."

"That hasn't got anything to do with it." He said, quietly.

"It has _everything_ to do with it. You're not taking good care of yourself. You must hardly be getting any rest from how you're constantly falling asleep. And you're such a moron that I just _know_ you're burning yourself out! You don't need to take on the weight of the world! I'm right here, if you stop treating me like glass for two _goddamn seconds_ then _maybe_ I could actually be of some use, rather than acting like a bloody paperweight for all the good I do around here."

She took a moment to relax, hands fisting in her shirt.

"This is- This is beyond _us,_ Haruhi. I don't think you quite understand the severity of-"

"Of course I do." She breathed, in a heartbreaking whisper. "I'm not stupid, senpai. I'm not naïve, either. Both of our families could be in danger- you don't have to remind me. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to them."

"If you understand that, then I don't quite see the problem here."

"The problem is that you're treating me like a child. I'm a year younger than you, yes, but that doesn't give you the right to censor the information I receive. This situation affects my life too, you have no authority to make those kinds of decisions without consulting me first."

"Even if it positively affects your Mental Health?" The part that really made her toes curl was that he was _utterly_ serious.

"You and I have very different views on positive influences, then." She returned, icily. "Keeping things from me only causes added stress. Fear of the unknown is worse than whatever pain you think the truth will cause, which you would know if you'd even _bothered_ to ask me." That certainly shut him up, but nevertheless, Haruhi still went for finishing strike. "If I don't want to hear something, I'm perfectly capable of telling you myself."

He lapsed into a tense silence, fingers tapping uneasily against the floor. Once more, his phone started ringing. It was cut silent by a hasty swipe, and by the sound of it, he must've kicked it across the room. "What do you want me to say?"

"Apologising would be a good start, don't you think?"

"I didn't do anything wrong." He insisted, and again his phone was blaring.

Her nails pressed deep indents into her palm as the brunette forced herself to breathe. Kyoya must have sensed how close she was to throwing back the door and throttling him, for he remained deathly silent. "Will you just take the damn call, already? Tachibana is probably wondering whether you're still breathing."

He sighed, and she imagined he was pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look… If it's that important to you, I'll explain everything once I'm finished. Give me ten minutes."

While he was gone, Haruhi whittled away the time by aggressively fluffing a pillow into shape, and re-organising her bookshelf. He returned sheepishly, hovering in the doorway until she was well away from the makeshift projectiles.

They sat on opposite ends of the table, an insurmountable distance now between them, as if the very floor had opened up into one great chasm. Stiff, all awkward angles and fake smiles, a forced air of politeness as Kyoya carefully began detailing all that had been concealed.

The increased sightings around the station, and his wanderings near the school's perimeter- never too close, but always just enough to set Tachibana on edge. The way he was getting consistently closer to her apartment each day. How a restraining order would likely only make him more unstable, just as Kyoya's threat had done, that's if they were even able to obtain one in the first place.

His fingers slowly dragged through his hair, making it stick up at awkward angles. "Mori-senpai contacted me earlier this week. Remember that couple I spoke to you about? Well, they did indeed do some digging for us."

"Was it any good?"

"That depends on your definition of good," Kyoya ventured, evenly. "It enabled a better understanding of his character, I suppose?"

"So?"

The pen in his hand groaned under his death grip, the first display of any emotion other than exasperation since he began.

"The neighbours pity him, mostly. He and his wife used to be quite close to a few families living nearby but after the loss of both their son, and Naomi-san herself, he retreated into his grief. Became reclusive, unapproachable." And now came the frustration, pen skittering across the table as he slammed it down. "Those 'complaints' at work? They were merely other employees raising concerns about his welfare, some of which detail classic dissociation symptoms. Made worse by the fact that the funeral costs forced Takeda back to work without adequate time to process the loss."

She nodded, gnawing down thoughtfully on her lower lip. "Is that everything?"

"I believe so." Even then, his head cocked to the side, taking a moment to scour his brain for anything else that might've slipped his notice. "If I remember anything later, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Okay."

A pause, before his finger gingerly reached forward and poked her hand, causing her to finally lift her gaze to meet his. "I'm sorry."

She accepted the apology.

But she didn't forgive him.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Haruhi knew that he was surprised.

Maybe even a little concerned, if the great void he liked to pretend was in his chest could even manage that much emotion.

There she was, sitting in her pyjamas, listlessly staring at his feet, the energy needed to raise her head all but abandoning her. Normally she'd be fully dressed, hair brushed, clad neatly in her uniform, all bushy-tailed and bright eyed, too energetic for whatever ungodly hour of the morning it was. (To be fair, even going at a snail's pace was too much for a drowsy Kyoya).

"Have you eaten?"

It seemed as though the boy had become quite accustomed to the morning tradition of having a bowl shoved at him, often being dragged to eat breakfast alongside her and her father.

Previously he'd made a fatal slip-of-the-tongue, and revealed his habit of skipping meals. Kyoya was known to obsess like that, to the point where he resisted being torn away from his work unless it was for the absolute essentials.

Tamaki swore on his immortal soul, every god he could name (and a few he made up) that he'd once watched the boy dump an entire Redbull into his coffee and down the whole thing. The alarming thing was that she wouldn't be surprised if that was true. During the Summer break, he'd survived two all nighters on pure coffee, leaving himself physically _twitching_ until Tamaki forced him to get some much needed sleep. (Mostly because the twins refused to climb down from the rafters until he was gone. No, she still hadn't figured out how they got up there in the first place, and honestly didn't think she wanted to either).

He really was an utter _moron._

So of course, Haruhi took it upon herself to make sure he was at least getting a decent breakfast, proving to be more ferocious than a rabid fangirl the few times he'd attempted to politely refuse. The discussion, what little there was, always ended with her reigning victorious, much to his growing resentment.

According to him, at the Fujioka residence, boundaries apparently didn't exist when it came to looking out for one another. But for some strange reason, it didn't feel intrusive.

It felt right.

Today, however, was very different.

She could see the cogs turning in his head, trying and failing to understand the scene.

**Kyoya.exe has stopped functioning.**

"You should get dressed." He ventured, sounding somewhat uncertain. That was new. Kyoya always strived to be so poised, sounding anything less was simple _alien._ "We have to leave soon."

Haruhi finally shifted, lethargy dragging at her limbs. It took so much effort to drag herself to her feet and into the kitchen, much to Kyoya's mounting confusion. She grabbed herself a glass of water, and settled back down, taking small, unwilling sips.

"I'm going to stay home today, actually."

To say that he was confused would be an understatement. "Is… Is this because of our disagreement? Haruhi, you can't skip school just because you're upset with me-"

"Do you really think I'm that childish?" That certainly shut him up. His mouth closed in a fluid motion, eyes imploring her to continue. To _explain_ herself. With him, it felt more like a demand, and she was inclined to refuse it. But that, she knew, would just be petty. Pettiness for the sake of being spiteful was below her. "I admit, I'm still angry at you, but that has no bearing on this. Understand?"

Grey eyes dissected her face. He nodded slowly, still looking as though she were an intricate puzzle he was attempting to solve.

"You don't look sick." He managed, after a long silence. "Do you have a temperature, by any chance?"

"No, I don't. I'm not sick, Kyoya-senpai." She assured, quietly. "I'm just exhausted. All I want to do is _sleep_. Unless you're going to take away my choice to do that, too?"

He flinched at the barb, but persistently maintained eye contact. Maybe it was the completely _dead_ look of her eyes that had him softening. His posture relaxed from confrontational, to sympathetic. Not pitying. Never pitying. "I see." More silence. Haruhi distracted herself with her water. "Do you need me to stay? I'd be happy to."

He must have been expecting her to lash out. She didn't. "I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not have company right now. I feel like being away from everything would help…" She heaved a resigned sigh. "Who am I kidding? I don't even know anymore. This is all just so… crazy, I guess."

His hand reached forward, maybe to ruffle her hair, or give her a consoling pat on the shoulder. She watched its progress with disinterest, the way it halted, hesitated, and slowly dropped back down to his side.

"I understand. I'll get the twins to write notes for you, and bring them round later."

"Thank you." She left the water on her table, and headed for her futon.

He excused himself, and she was left to the complete _silence_ of her apartment.

It was much later when Haruhi emerged from her room and stretched her hands out before her, cheek resting against the cool wood of the coffee table.

She and Kyoya would often fall asleep there, right in the middle of completing work.

Whoever was awake last would carry- or in her case, drag- the other onto a futon.

It wasn't that she was especially weak. If it had been Honey, or _maybe_ one of the twins, she could have lifted them the whole distance.

But Kyoya had about ten inches on her and weighed quite a bit more. She didn't have long enough arms to hold enough of him off the ground. Someone as tall as Kyoya couldn't suddenly fold up like Origami. It was impossible. It hadn't stopped her from trying, though. The bespectacled boy proved to be rather inflexible when asleep.

She could lift him from the legs.

She tried it once, when he was standing up.

The twins had bet she couldn't, and while she wasn't usually one to indulge their childishness, she was tired and not really thinking straight. Besides, if doing so would get them to shut up for two heavenly seconds, what did she have to lose? Other than her life, that is.

She'd taken the older boy by surprise- he held tightly to her shoulder, fingers cramping from the pressure. Haruhi had put him down fairly quickly. She'd proven her point. Twice, because she'd managed to lift him, _and_ Kyoya did not try and kill her for it. He did, however, add to her debt as punishment for almost inducing an early heart attack.

She could live with that.

Probably.

While Haruhi had little trouble lifting him like that when he was awake, his body was a complete deadweight while asleep.

The first time, she'd tried to lift him firefighter style. He'd smacked his head on the ground and she almost snapped her back in two trying to stand up. Luckily, he slept like the dead, and the force hadn't been enough to cause a bruise, so when he woke the next day, he had been none the wiser.

Trying to carry him normally was slightly less disastrous, but an utter failure nonetheless.

From then on, she resolved to half lift, half drag him onto the futon.

She was glad they'd moved one into the sitting room, for when he'd stay over. Which was often. It wasn't unusual for him to fall asleep while waiting for Ranka's arrival, or to succumb to the older man's theatrics, and agree to stay overnight while the said man pulled a double shift, or simply to just chat.

Sometimes she resented being so small.

Adding just a few extra inches would be far more useful, in her opinion.

That way she could easily reach things that would normally be too high. People would actually see her and so accidental collisions would be at an all-time low. With her being taller, the likelihood of getting lost in crowds decreased, and she would finally be able to carry tall people.

Like Kyoya.

That smug git didn't have any trouble carrying her. He could scoop her right up and deliver her to her own futon with ease. It was almost infuriating. Sometimes he could only manage it to his own, and they fell asleep slumped over one another.

The fact that he even bothered to do so shocked her at first. But, alas, in pure Kyoya-like honesty, he admitted that putting her to bed was less troublesome than just leaving her there. From previous experience, dealing with her sore and in pain had been quite possibly the most testing moment of his life, even without factoring in her blatant refusal of his help- despite the fact that they were both perfectly aware that she was struggling to walk even three feet.

Either way, he didn't share the same problem.

But as ever, all she had to do was change perspectives in order to cheer up.

Honey, despite his martial arts training, would face the same problem as her. He would not be able to carry Kyoya. Or Tamaki. Or Mori.

She didn't think anyone would be able to carry Mori, really.

Despite the sense of injustice her short stature gave her, she had more important things to worry about than being vertically challenged.

And for what she lacked in height, she certainly made up for in ingenuity. Unable to reach an item? No problem, she'd just grab a chair. People not seeing her? Hardly an issue, she had two good eyes and a working mouth, she was perfectly capable of announcing her presence. Speaking of a working mouth, being lost in a crowd was no big deal. All she had to do was cup her hands and yell out a sentence tailored precisely to whomever she was with, " _Haruhi Fujioka sucks"_ bearing the most hilarious results thus so far. Tamaki had practically crawled over innocent pedestrians, almost literally breathing fire in his outrage.

A key rattled in the lock.

After a moment of fumbling, the door was opened.

She listened with disinterest to the sound of Kyoya entering the apartment, carefully going from room to room to find her. When he did, she registered the small, concerned noise that rumbled in his throat before he gently lifted her up.

"I'm not asleep." She murmured, cracking an eye open and just about giving him a heart attack.

He almost dropped her in his surprise, and she had to grab onto his uniform to stay in his arms. Still breathing a little faster than normal, he let her slide back to her her feet, and took a seat. "Next time, I'd rather you warn me _before_ I get you off the ground."

"I was tired." She stretched herself back out across the coffee table, watching him somewhat drowsily. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd see how you were doing." Evidently, he'd spoken without thinking. The act itself was rarer than a fleeting glimpse of a unicorn.

"That's nice of you."

Kyoya elected to say nothing, and instead rummaged through his bag, placing a stack of paper on the table. "Here. The twins took notes for you, alongside collecting work from your teachers. Thank them appropriately next time you see them. They didn't even use this as an opportunity for mischief- I've checked."

Haruhi managed a little smile, and nodded. "I will. I appreciate you bringing these over."

"And, this is medicine from Tamaki. I told them you were ill. Once he stopped babbling about your imminent death, he bought this for you." Haruhi accepted the package just a gratefully. After an awkward pause, Kyoya cleared his throat. "I suppose I should get going. I'm glad to see you're looking somewhat better, in any case. Well, I'll see you to-"

Haruhi interrupted him with a quiet, "Kyoya-senpai."

He halted, midway through the process of getting up. "Yes?"

"You can stay, if you'd like. I think I've had my fill of contemplation. The silence has become… a little daunting, I guess."

A flicker of his lips, and he pulled himself up to his full height. Ochre orbs hesitantly tracked his progress around the table. "I'll make some tea."

Mentally, he wondered whether he was getting too invested in the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just- Haruhi. Standing her ground. Accepting an apology, but not forgiving. Accepting that he hurt her, and deciding to move forward from that, to put it behind her, because staying angry achieves nothing but sour memories
> 
> And lil Kyo, the misguided nugget. He really needs to get better at actually communicating with people
> 
> They're both dorks, really


	10. For A Moment, I Forgot Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two wind down in the comfort of each other's presence, and an unexpected guest shows up.

"So you're heading out already, Kyoya."

It wasn't a question.

Pushing down his surprise, Kyoya glanced over his shoulder. "Ah. Good morning, father." He greeted politely, before returning to easing his shoe completely over his heel.

The Ootori patriarch cocked an eyebrow, eyes scanning his son's unusually spry expression for whatever ungodly hour of the morning it was. "You're up rather early. If I remember correctly, just last month you refused rather vehemently to be awake any earlier than ten on a weekend."

A rueful smile rose on his features. "Yes, well, circumstances change. Unfortunately, my presence is necessary rather a lot earlier than before."

Yoshio took advantage of the momentary silence, glasses flashing. "I suppose you'll be at the Fujioka residence once again?"

"Hm?" Kyoya's head raised from his bag, attention split between keeping a mental tally of everything he needed, and his father's obvious prying. "Oh, yes. Ranka-san finally has a day off, so naturally Haruhi would rather have our usual study session be held at her house, where she can spend more time with him." He paused, slyly. "I trust that isn't a problem?"

His father acknowledged the challenge with a tilt of his head. "I don't believe so, no."

And when Kyoya ducked back down, assuming the conversation was over, the lecture began. "Make sure you remain polite and courteous, as is expected of you. And do remember to thank Ranka-san for allowing your intrusion so frequently. You seem to spend more time there than at home these days."

His hands stilled.

For a long moment, no words were exchanged.

Then Yoshio addressed the elephant in the room. "I gather you're still not at liberty to explain the situation to me?"

"I'm afraid not." Kyoya answered delicately, continuing to thumb through the textbook in his hand, mostly to keep himself busy. "I believe it isn't really my place to divulge such matters without Haruhi's permission. If she would prefer for it to remain a secret, then I will do my best to oblige her wishes." His voice lowered to a distracted mumble. "I'd rather not upset her again."

( _Aside from the fact that an angry Haruhi was quite a sight to behold, if any of the others hosts had caught onto her foul mood, Kyoya was sure there would have been five shovels at the ready to bury his body._

_Five, because when it came to Haruhi, best friend solidarity meant absolute shit._

_In fact, Tamaki would probably be the first one to arm himself._

_Somehow, Kyoya felt as though he should be insulted._

_He wasn't)._

"I see."

These pauses were becoming far too awkward for Kyoya's liking. He was just short of shooting a text at Tachibana to put him out of his misery, bulldozer the front doors down, and drive the car _over_ him, when his father spoke again. "Assuming that you're courting her would be too much to ask, no?"

Miraculously, Kyoya didn't choke on air. He was, however, forced to smother his amused snort.

"Courting her?" Kyoya, being an observant little shit, as Haruhi liked to put it, certainly noticed the implication that his father wouldn't object to said relationship. "No. No, we're just friends. Haruhi is a very dear friend to me; I merely wish to protect her, that's all."

The elder accept this with a short nod, and that was that.

Or so Kyoya thought.

"It was a surprise," His father said, evenly. And when he was met only with confusion, he explained, still cryptically, because apparently Yoshio liked to screw with his sons now. This development was both alarming and intriguing. "Your sudden interest in her."

Kyoya cocked his head, wary. "I don't quite understand what you mean."

What followed was a rather intense staring match, before Yoshio shook his head, and conceded. "Nevermind. The young Fujioka is doing well, correct?"

His eyes remained narrowed, observing his father suspiciously. "Yes, that's right." He confirmed, slowly. "Why?"

His father ploughed on, ignoring his question. "Yes, well. Under the circumstances, I will ignore your mobilization of those select few Black Onion Squad members, but in the future I'd much rather you inform me first before using them again." His gaze turned severe. "Word does reach me eventually, you should have known that little taskforce of yours would be uncovered sooner or later."

Of course it would.

It wasn't like Kyoya hadn't bothered to hide it too well in the first place, lest his family become even more concerned with his actions. The last thing Kyoya wanted or needed right now was a well-intentioned moron poking their nose into his business.

"To be perfectly honest, I never intended it to be functional for so long. But with the select window of time in which they can operate, and some added unforeseen complications, work has proven to be rather slow."

After a long moment of silence, his father spoke once more. Slow, smooth, the way he always did when edging on a topic on which he didn't know where he stood. "Kyoya, should I be made aware of this situation? If it threatens your safety, or that of the Fujioka girl you're so fond of, acting rashly could prove to be a very unwise decision."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut.

He was already well aware of that fact, thank you very much. His utter failure at defusing the situation was still fresh in his mind, ready to pistol whip him across the face with the reminder when he least expected it.

Still, he forced his expression into one of collected calm, and quietly shook his head. "Not for now. I have it under control, but I do admit that that could be subject to change in the near future. In any case, I'll discuss the matter with Haruhi once more."

The answer did not seem to please his father at all.

Alas, he couldn't do anything but disapprove strongly from the sidelines until Kyoya cracked. Any and all attempts to discover the truth himself would be revealed, and would only lead to Kyoya completely shutting himself off, which was exactly the opposite of what Yoshio wanted.

The man sighed, resigned to his fate. "I hope for your sake, this won't continue for much longer. Your absence from events will soon ignite rumours, families are already talking."

 _Just perfect. Unflattering gossip was_ just _what he needed right now. Could this day get any better?_

"While it won't especially affect The Ootori Group as a whole, your club, on the other hand, will likely suffer. I advise you to keep that in mind."

"I will."

Kyoya's phone buzzed in his pocket. It was likely Tachibana, questioning the young man's whereabouts.

"I let you be on your way, then." He said, gesturing towards the door. Kyoya scooped his bag up, and gave a short nod in lieu of a goodbye. Of course, he should've expected that the lecture wasn't quite over yet, his father's voice making him slow to a halt. "Oh, and Kyoya? Call your siblings once in a while. Yuuichi has been quite concerned about you."

 _("Concerned" was the understatement of the century._ _According to Tachibana, Yuuichi had phoned every day for the past week, absolutely frantic about being updated on his little brother's wealthfare._ _Of course, the sensible thing would be to_ Call Kyoya Himself Like A Mature And Responsible Adult, _but like all Ootoris, pettiness was his life force.)._

"Oh, for heaven's sake." Kyoya sighed, heavily. "If I recall correctly, _he_ was the one who refused to speak to me until I stopped being such a quote _stubborn brat_ unquote. It's hardly my fault if he won't return my calls."

Behind shielded frames, steel eyes narrowed. "That wasn't a request."

"Yes, sir." The boy unconsciously straightened up. Damn him and his power moves. "I'll be sure to do so."

With that, he escaped into his awaiting car, slamming the door closed and trying not to pout.

"I take it you were lectured by Ootori-sama?"

Kyoya rolled his eyes and clipped his seatbelt in with more force than necessarily. "First Yuuichi, now father? It's beginning to get tiresome. Do strike me down if Fuyumi ever feels the need to exercise her sisterly duties."

"They're just worried about you." Tachibana remarked, with a smile.

"Yes, well. I'm not a child, they should know I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"Those words sound familiar." Grey eyes snapped over to his bodyguard/chauffeur/substitute father.

He did _not._

Oh, he _did._ The knowing twinkle in his eyes made it perfectly clear that _yes_ Tachibana was indeed reminding him of his mistake _so he could become a better person blah blah blah…._ but it was mostly just for the shits and giggles. Seeing as though the man had been present in Kyoya's life since before he could even walk, he naturally earned a free pass on literally _everything._

Up to and including taking the absolute piss out of his young charge.

Sometimes he regretted formally introducing the man to Haruhi. They got along like a house on fire, and found no greater pleasure in life than teasing the boy.

"Oh, be quiet." He huffed, choosing to stare out of the window, and _no he most certainly the fuck was not sulking._

Tachibana merely chuckled, and the rest of the journey passed in companionable silence.

The day was clear, crisp. He bide the man goodbye, and let himself into the Fujioka apartment. Ranka called a distant greeting, poking his head out of the kitchen door to smile welcomingly.

"Morning, Ranka-san." Kyoya returned, stifling a yawn. "Where's Haruhi?"

"She went out for a walk."

Kyoya missed the chair he'd been attempting to sit on. He was sure the impact had caused his soul to ascend to the astral realm. "whAT-"

And. Okay, yeah, that was not Kyoya's proudest moment. At all.

With a tinkling laugh, Ranka swooped down to check on him. "No need to fret. One of those nice men from the overnight watch is accompanying her." A perfectly manicured finger tapped thoughtfully against his lips. "Aijima-san? I think that was his name."

The story checked out. Aijima had indeed been stationed outside last night, so Kyoya relaxed. The dark void in his chest began beating normally again. With a sigh, he ran a lazy hand through his hair. "Of course. She should be fine, then."

Ranka, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to his musings. With a loud tut, the man seized a nearby comb and planted himself behind the boy, carefully running it through the boy's barely tamed bedhair.

"Look at all these tangles." Ranka clicked his tongue disapprovingly, attacking his hair with new vigor. Kyoya was briefly reminded of grizzly bears grooming their cubs. "Kyoya-kun, you have to take better care of yourself."

Stiff with confusion, Kyoya's head was straightened each time he attempted to glance back. "I… I didn't have time."

"That's no excuse." And here he was, getting scolded _again._ "You have such lovely hair, it's a shame to let it get so messy."

Resigned to his fate, Kyoya closed his eyes and allowed the action. Ranka was incredibly gentle, slowly working out each knot as painlessly as possible.

"I feel like a child."

"You _are_ a child." Ranka replied, not unkindly. It was not belittlement in any sense, merely a reminder that in that grand scheme of things, a total of seventeen years was still quite young. While mature and wise beyond his years, the fact remained that Kyoya was still a minor.

Sometimes, it was hard to remember that.

And sometimes it was even harder to accept it.

"My mother used to do this," Kyoya murmured, eyes half lidded, remembering the soft melodies that clung to him like golden strips of light. "When I was very young, she'd brush my hair for me. There was an alcove where she would sit, and we'd all wait our turn. Father was never the affectionate type, so when mother..." He paused shortly, before releasing the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "Nobody has really done this in a long time."

The man hummed an acknowledgement. "Haruhi is the same. She stopped letting me brush hers once she reached middle school. Argued that I had more important things to spend my time on."

"How very Haruhi-like. She always puts others before herself."

Kyoya would be lying if he said this wasn't somewhat awkward, but Ranka was all too welcoming, and seemed nothing but eager to become a trusted parental figure in Kyoya's life. And the boy would also be lying if he claimed he didn't appreciate it. Ranka provided a feeling of safety and comfort that Kyoya needed, but couldn't always necessarily receive from his family, or extended family for that of his three bodyguards.

He would be forever grateful for it.

"You know, you're becoming more open, Kyoya-kun."

Grey orbs blinked. He thought for a moment, before frowning. "I don't think I've changed at all."

"Not changed," Ranka corrected, lightly. "You haven't necessarily became a different person, you just seem more willing to share things than before. And you smile a lot more, it's nice."

And here was Kyoya, missing the entire point of the conversation, because _ew, feelings_ and _wholesomeness_ and _he would not be forced to acknowledge that he had a heart, goddamn it._ "I used to smile."

That earned him a laugh. "I work at a bar, Kyoya-kun, I know a customer smile when I see one."

_Diversion attempt: FAIL._

There was a silence for several minutes. Ranka was focused on the bespectacled boy's hair, Kyoya on his quiet contemplations. "I suppose I see your point." He relented, eventually.

"And you're okay with it?"

He was.

.

 

.

 

.

 

"Are we watching a movie?" Kyoya asked drowsily, a damp towel draped across his hair as he re-entered the room. The bath had been warm, refreshing, and left him vaguely tired.

"You can stay the night, Kyoya-kun." Ranka offered, hopefully, getting settled into a comfortable position, trying not to jostle his daughter too much. Haruhi was satisfied with lounging against the man, quietly setting up a film. "I haven't had much of a chance to chat with you."

_(Haruhi had barreled through the door with a pink nose and beaming smile, saving Kyoya from having to mercy kill himself, lest he was forced through another personal crisis)._

The bespectacled boy blinked, and quietly took out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. Kyoya missed Tachibana's a grand total of three times, before finally selecting the correct name.

 

> **_You don't need to pick me up tonight._ **

 

_(A couple of weeks ago, Tamaki had changed his contact names._

_Kyoya, not being a moron like a certain blond-haired best friend of his, did the simple thing of actually_ reading through his goddamn messages _to figure out who was who, which took him all of five minutes, much to Tamaki's disappointment._

_Some he changed back._

_Kyoya, funnily enough, rather much enjoyed living with all his limbs attached. Switching his father's contact from "Satan" was of the utmost importance if he wanted to keep it that way._

_The twins, however, had been labelled Devil Spawns #1 and #2._

_That he could live with)._

**Dad #2:** I'll inform your father. Expect Hotta and I to be there 11 sharp tomorrow to collect you. Have fun :)

Kyoya would never understand Tachibana's obsession with emojis. The man swore on everything holy, all the gods he could name (and a few he made up on the spot) that his niece was entirely to blame for it.

Which was of course utter bullshit, and they all knew it.

 **Dad #2:** Aijima wants you to thank Haruhi for some cookies for him????? His wife loved them, apparently.

Dutifully, Kyoya relayed this message to the girl, and then rolled his eyes as she commandeered his phone to reply.

_("You have his number, why don't you text him yourself?"_

" _Your phone is closer."_

…

_He couldn't really argue with that logic)._

 

 

> **_It was no trouble at all, I'm glad she liked them!_ **
> 
> **_Expect some more next weekend, this time there should be more than enough for you and Hotta-san as well_ **
> 
> **_-Haruhi_ **

 

Phone stashed safely in his pocket, he was very quickly accosted and brought into the big cuddle pile by the excitable redhead. Haruhi, from where she was lying back into her father, grinned and wriggled her fingers in his direction. "Run while you can."

"I believe all my internal organs are crushed. I'm in no state to go anywhere."

She shot him a devilish smirk, and played the movie. "Suffer."

Kyoya dozed off somewhere during the middle of the film, leaning heavily into Ranka's side. She must've drifted off at some point as well, for the next morning, Haruhi woke to warm sunshine and low voices in the next room.

The sweet scent of pancakes enticed her out of bed, where she cracked the sliding door open and peeked out. Kyoya was already awake and miraculously not acting like the spawn of Satan. He'd claimed the fluffiest blanket at the Fujioka residence to swaddle himself up in, and looked positively _soft_ with his sweater paws and sleepy yawns.

It seemed almost impossible for strong, collected, indifferent Kyoya Ootori to look so open, so unguarded, glasses pushed up into his hair, balled up hand absently rubbing over his eyes. A bad sleep again, she guessed, sympathy rising. But there he was, framed with pale morning light, in all his messy-hair-and-comfy-sweater-aesthetic glory.

And there, tucked up on the other side on the coffee table was her father, who had dug out her baby pictures, and was pouring over them with vigor.

The bespectacled boy merely listened, chin propped up on his hand, smiling and humming, and asking questions in all the right places. Every now and again he picked at his plate, syrup dripping from the perfect squares of pancake he'd cut.

She crossed the room in two seconds flat, well and truly scaring the life out of one Ranka Fujioka, while Kyoya watched on, suitably amused.

"Dad!" Haruhi complained, flipping the book closed. "What have I told you about traumatising the guests?"

"But Haruhi-" Her father whined, petering off when she glared at him.

"Sorry, Kyoya-senpai. I hope he didn't bore you to death."

"I don't mind," Kyoya's smile took on a teasing tilt. "In fact, I thought you made quite the cute little- mph!" Haruhi took advantage of his food-laden fork, easily silencing the boy with a mouthful of warm, sugary goodness.

With that done, she rounded on her father. "Just how much did you show him?"

Kyoya answered for him, having swallowed the pancake with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Oh, not much." He assured, slyly. "Just up until your middle school years."

Haruhi was hit with the sudden, striking realisation that she was never living this down. Kyoya was smirking at her like a cat who'd got the cream, only in this case, the cream was blackmail material that he would hold against her for all eternity.

So, she did the only logical thing, and snapped a picture of him, all cosy and endearing- the perfect leverage.

Yes, Kyoya did try and wrestle the phone back to delete the picture, and yes, he failed miserably.

Karma sure was a bitch.

.

.

* * *

.

.

A loud, awkward thudding sounded at her door, disjointed and strange to her ears.

Instantly, she was wary.

Kyoya had left earlier to do some grocery shopping, meaning she had the apartment to herself.

_(He'd initially suggested sending Tachibana, and her protests kick-started an argument that only ended when Kyoya offered to go himself._

_While she was still pissed that he was keeping her locked inside like some china doll, he was tired and irritable, so she relented, if only for his sake)._

So, yes, Kyoya had left, and yes, Kyoya should have been due back a while ago, but Kyoya was also in possession of a key, and so, logically, would forgo knocking altogether.

Unless he forgot his key. Which seemed unlikely, as he never forgot anything.

Cautious, she only opened it by a crack at first, then, with a smile, swung the door back completely. Even she could be wrong sometimes, she guessed.

"You look like a drowned rat."

Kyoya, laden with several shopping bags, was standing outside, shivering, vaguely reminiscent of a cat dunked in water. "I feel like one."

"What happened to your keys? And I thought you took an umbrella with you?"

"My hands were a little too full to use them."

Relieving him of the bags was more of an awkward task that necessary, with him apparently unwilling to use his left hand. Regardless, she dismissed the matter and gave him a little tug to pull him inside. "Go into the bathroom, I'll get you some towels."

She followed in only a moment or so later, with several thick towels. He'd placed his glasses to the side and was only just pulling himself free of his shirt when she entered, the soggy material clinging persistently to his skin. Tossing it to the side, he caught her gaze panning down him.

"See something you like?" His tone was surprised, yet his lashes lowered in that teasing, seductive manner of his.

As always, all it elicited was a roll of her eyes. "Your hair's sticking up-" It was honestly like the spikes of a hedgehog. "- And when'd that cat get here?"

As if responding to her, the kitten gave a pitiful mewl, nestling further into Kyoya's lap. Instead of replying, he tried fixing the bird's nest that was his hair. Haruhi merely dumped one of the towels over his head, ignoring the way he glared. "Wrap up in that. You must be freezing."

"I'm fine."

There was only the smallest bat of an eyelash in the wake of her pressing a slender finger against his arm. Ochre orbs raised to meet ones of a storm grey, holding a victorious gleam. "You're shivering. And you have goosebumps. Try again."

He ignored her in favour of rubbing warmth into the animal's quivering body, his attitude striking her as somewhat more subdued than earlier. She chalked it up to being cold, (Kyoya's absolute hatred of the cold was common knowledge, after all), and only shrugged. "Suit yourself."

A flash of crimson caught her eye. "You're bleeding."

"Oh." His hands were indeed smeared with blood. Evidently, he'd only just noticed himself. "It's nothing. She scratched me earlier." He inspected them more closely. "A lot."

"Okay, swap. I'll take the cat, you worry about yourself. You'll freeze to death at this rate."

Before he could say a word, she'd carefully liberated him of the tiny animal, her hands gently working in smooth circles.

"Get dried up and then clean your hands. I'll find some disinfectant in a bit to take care of those cuts- they look pretty painful. You've got one on your cheek, too." His fingers automatically graced the wound on his face, causing him to wince once the pain registered.

With a resigned sigh, Kyoya swaddled himself up in the towel, expression relaxing into a serene state of content. She was happy to see some colour return to his too-pale cheeks.

Maybe she'd just been seeing things earlier.

After a fair few minutes in comfortable silence, she tilted her head, a little smile forming. "I didn't take you for an animal person."

"What gave you that impression?"

They were so close he didn't need to squint to see her, even without the aid of his glasses.

"Tamaki-senpai's dog. You always seem annoyed around her."

"Oh." A derisive snort. "I just prefer them when they're not causing trouble."

"Who, Tamaki-senpai or Antoniette?"

"Both." His lip curled slightly. "They suit each other, I suppose. That idiot and his idiot dog."

They traded a small look, Haruhi pressing a hand against his lips to smother her chuckle. Kyoya, despite his best efforts, was still smiling, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"Where did you find her?"

His eyes blinked open, so vulnerable and open without his usual lenses to shield them. "One of the drains not too far from here. It took a while to coax her out, as you can probably tell."

A thoughtful finger against her lips, Haruhi took a moment to study him. "I wouldn't expect that from you, to be honest."

"I wasn't going to leave it there to die." He said, with a shrug. "I'm not that heartless."

"I never said you were."

Silence.

Kyoya stared at her for a long moment, before working out the dampness in his hair. It wasn't exactly an uncomfortable silence. More like the relaxed, familiar kind of silence of two friends accustomed to being in each other's presence, regardless of whether they were talking or not.

"What are you going to do with her?"

"Happy early birthday?"

"Cute. But my landlord doesn't allow pets, so you're all out of luck here."

He considered this for a moment, hands stilling. "Well then… If she doesn't belong to anyone, I'll keep her."

Haruhi's thumb traced thoughtfully over her lips. Kyoya quirked an eyebrow as she studied him intensely. "You know cats are a lot of work, right?" A nod. "She'll be your responsibility. You'll have to feed her, and bathe her, train her, make sure she stays happy and healthy- speaking of, she'll probably have to have vaccines, too-"

He gave a small chuckle. "I know, Haruhi."

She stopped ticking the list off on her fingers and appraised him seriously. "And vet bills are expensive." His hand made a very deliberate _you're telling this to_ _ **me**_ sweep down his body. She rolled her eyes. "Not that that'll be much of a problem for you. Damn rich bastard. What I mean is, if you're not serious about taking care of her, it'd be better to take her to a shelter."

" _I_ _know_ , Haruhi."

They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time.

"You know what? Underneath it all, you're actually quite nice."

"Repeat that disgusting slander again and you'll be hearing from my lawyers."

.

.

* * *

.

.

At this point, having Kyoya around the apartment felt pretty natural. It was nice having company around, when usually she'd be completely alone. He filled the silence, the space in an otherwise empty apartment, with his complaints and his sarcasm, and his curses on the occasions that he smacked his forehead on the too-low door frames.

They'd fallen into a routine, where they did chores like laundry or cleaning, before settling down to complete homework. Then they would make dinner, leaving Ranka's aside for when he got home.

Haruhi enjoyed spending that time with him.

Kyoya, she knew, did as well, even if he'd never say it aloud. Too proud. Too stupid. Or maybe just a mix of both.

Still, it was a bit different for him to be walking around in her dad's clothes, all banged up, with messy hair and a kitten following his every movement. The shirt already had claw marks from when the newly dubbed Noel had tried to clambour onto his shoulders.

Surprisingly, Kyoya took this all in his stride. Even if he'd almost tripped over the kitten twice within an hour. The sight of Noel curled in his arms, purring up a storm, a bemused Kyoya absently petting her was too pure for words. Apparently, the boy didn't have much experience with pets. But, like with everything, he took to it like a fish to water.

Haruhi still envied his Jack of All Trades status.

Once it started getting late, Kyoya pulled the spare futon set aside for him into the living room, and settled down. He and Haruhi talked through the open doorway until they fell asleep, Noel snuggled next to the girl. (Kyoya, with all seriousness, called the kitten a traitor, which made Haruhi laugh).

Haruhi woke early next morning to find Noel lying over her face, still fast asleep.

As you do.

It felt like a crime to move her, but unfortunately breathing was necessary for Haruhi's continued survival. Shocker, really. Kitten safely deposited in the middle of the futon, she found that Kyoya was already awake, his futon deserted, still messy from a restless sleep.

He was in the kitchen, wearing one of her father's aprons (the one with "Kiss The Cook" sprawled across the front in curly script that was offensively pink), trying and failing to crack an egg correctly. He was too forceful, and the yolk dripped between his fingers. To the side, the toast was burning away, yet all she could do was smile.

"What are you doing?"

A grimace. "My best."

To his relief, she went and saved the toast, before he could set off the smoke alarm.

Kyoya successfully collected most of the egg in the pan, though unwittingly draped a mixture of yolk and white across the handle that made Haruhi squeak when she touched it. Kyoya jumped as she absently wiped it down his front, because, hey, it took less effort than hunting for a tissue.

That, she supposed, was her first mistake.

Very quickly, Kyoya got revenge by _accidentally_ flicking water at her. The cold liquid made her flinch, and when she narrowed her eyes, he only whistled innocently, and went to tend to the eggs. They were busy with their own tasks, dancing around each other for long enough that Kyoya dropped his guard. That, he discovered, was a bad idea. Haruhi was unpredictable and knew full well the advantage of attacking when least expected.

Smirking, the girl went in for the kill. Feet light, she snuck up behind the boy and ran her fingers from the nape of his neck up, making him yelp and glare at her, absolutely scandalised.

"Yes?" She took on an angelic expression, hip checking him out of her way.

The harmless pranking continued all the way up until they sat down to eat. Haruhi was only mildly disappointed that Kyoya, ever observant, realised she passed him salt instead of sugar for his tea.

_(Likely because he had fallen for it the first time, looked her dead in the eye and drank the entire thing just to prove that he was the Alpha._

_Yes, she had been suitably impressed._

_For all of the approximate four seconds it took for the boy to completely and utterly regret that decision)._

Noel tried to steal food off their plates, and was only satisfied when Kyoya slipped her some chicken. Not that it didn't stop Kyoya himself stealing food off Haruhi's plate, which kick-started an all out war, and ended in them going to extreme lengths to protect their breakfast. Kyoya managed to pilfer the rest of her egg, and as punishment, she made him wash the dishes.

He did so with great difficulty, as Noel had decided the leg of his pants made a great climbing wall. At first Haruhi was too busy putting the bedding away, but at his pained voice, she swooped in and removed the kitten, who by then had almost scaled up to his hip.

Haruhi changed clothes in her room. Kyoya's were still slightly damp, so he remained in his borrowed ones, absently playing with Noel as the two of them talked.

Tamaki had texted him. It was his usual good morning text. Kyoya returned the greeting, and then promptly switched his phone off, as not to be distracted. (Or, alternatively, bombarded with pointless messages).

Chatting with Haruhi was always fun, even if she was mostly draped across the table, arms stretched out in front of her, eyes preternaturally huge as she stared up at him. While she slept a decent amount, she didn't feel rested. On the other hand, they both knew that Kyoya had hardly slept at all, yet he barely felt tired, appearing more engaged than Haruhi did.

Their wake-up call arrived much sooner than expected.

Voices emanated from outside. Ranka was home from work, searching for his keys, and, to Haruhi's horror, he was accompanied by their landlady. "Oh shi- hide the cat!"

Kyoya scooped Noel up at a steady jog, and the two of them both looked desperately around for inspiration, but then the keys were rattling in the lock and Haruhi, not knowing what else to do, pushed him into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

A second later, the two adults entered, and Haruhi, leaning against the door, tried to look as innocent as possible.

"Dad, welcome back."

"Haruhi!" He pounced a hug on her. "Are you alright? Did every go well last night? No problems?"

She accepted the embrace with a fond roll of her eyes. "We're both fine. Kyoya-senpai got caught in the rain, but otherwise, there was no trouble." She bowed her head to the landlady, and smiled. "Good morning." The little old lady politely echoed her greeting.

"Where is Kyoya-kun, anyway? Has he left already? I can imagine staying over two nights in a row might've caused trouble with his parents."

"No. He's um… He's grabbing some textbooks from my bedroom. He won't be too long."

Haruhi could hear movement from inside. Evidently, Kyoya still hadn't found a suitable spot to hide the rambunctious kitten, and was getting a bit frantic.

"I'll pop in and thank him."

Blind to her protests, he went straight in. Kyoya was halfway in her closet, acting as though he was perusing the contents with intense care. He greeted the man with a genial smile, though Haruhi could see how stiff his shoulders were. She could take a wild guess and chance that one of the coat pockets was currently being used to conceal Noel."Ranka-san, welcome back. Haruhi, you did want that white jumper, didn't you?"

"Yes, please. The Math and Science textbooks, too."

Ranka smiled as well. "Thank you for staying over last night, I appreciate you looking out for my precious Haruhi."

"Don't mention it, really. It was nice to have company, I would've usually been bored at home, anyway."

Haruhi noticed Kyoya's flickering gaze, and smoothly cut between them. "You've just got home. Why don't you sit down and relax, I'll make you both some tea."

To the relief of both teens, he exited the room, and settled down with the landlady. After trading relieved glances, Haruhi went to play her part as The Distraction™, and play it magnificently she did. A couple of minutes later, Kyoya re-entered, expression the smoothest she'd ever seen from him, several textbooks and a jumper tucked under one arm.

"Took your time." She quipped, half teasing, half serious.

"They were quite hard to find. The organisation of your room is appalling."

"Just because everything isn't alphabetized like _your_ room." She pulled the jumper over her head, and, on instinct, Kyoya flattened down the hair that spiked up.

"I don't see what there is to complain about, it's a very logical arrangement."

She wrinkled her nose. "There's such a thing as being _too_ neat, Kyoya-senpai. It's uncanny."

He only rolled her eyes. "Say what you will. At least _I_ don't have to search half the Earth to find anything."

Ranka was wearing an unholy expression of glee as he watched their exchange. Thankfully, he managed to suppress his inner-fangirl and instead engaged their landlady in conversation, the two teens occasionally chipped in with their own input. Mostly they were content with listening in, Haruhi picking at the hem of her shirt, Kyoya discreetly nudging her in the ribs to get her to stop.

A loud meow permeated the conversation.

Haruhi and Kyoya both froze.

Through the contact of his hand around her wrist, he could feel her pulse quicken. Haruhi even stopped her attempt to tickle him, in favour of trying not to let the panic and guilt show on her face.

"Was that-"

"That was me." Kyoya interrupted, completely straight-faced, before Haruhi could even begin trying to make up an excuse. "The twins must have changed my ringtone while I wasn't looking. I apologise for the disturbance."

Haruhi, the perfect wingwoman, expertly changed the topic. Kyoya made a show of checking his phone with far more interest than would normally be believable, mouthing _that was too close_ at the girl when the adults weren't looking.

They carried an eager conversation about the Ootori business, Kyoya describing the work of his father and older brothers, which definitely impressed the landlady. Kyoya's own scholastic achievements merited the praise of both adults, at which point he smoothly and very deliberately switched the limelight onto Haruhi. They held this up for around ten minutes and were just beginning to relax, before Noel reached her final form, evolving into the unholy offspring of Satan himself, and meowing violently, annoyed at being wherever Kyoya had shut her.

Very slowly, the two looked at each other.

_Fuck._

Kyoya hurriedly pulled out his phone, mentally cringing at how pathetically flimsy his excuse was. "That would be Tamaki…. Being Tamaki." As Tamaki's -500 amount chill was common knowledge, this only raised eyebrows from the landlady. "I apologise. He does this… sometimes."

"Oh! Get my phone for me, Senpai. Maybe he's messaged me? You know how he gets when I don't reply."

Kyoya all but flew to his feet. "It's in your room?"

She nodded, and he had to physically restrain himself from running to the kitten. Haruhi covered up the commotion by talking a little louder than necessary, trying to ignore her father's suspicious expression. They talked civilly about school for a little while longer, before Ranka politely excused the landlady on the guise that the two teens needed to revise for a test.

Once she had left, Kyoya arrived with Haruhi's phone, looking calm as can be, if a little windswept.

Ranka turned to the two teens, utterly done. "Where's the goddamn cat?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Was originally meant to be two separate chapters, but I shoved them together to speed up the pacing)
> 
> Kyoya literally has like five dads what is this 
> 
> And sweet, sweet Noel is the only true bit of perfection in that cruel world


	11. I Die Less Than Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a game of twenty questions, Kyoya learns the importance of withholding his very vocal judgement until after experiencing said activity

Kyoya napped a lot more than before.

It was a strange mix of worrying and relieving. Because sure, it meant he was pushing himself too hard when she wasn't keeping an eye on him, but it also meant he was at least getting _some_ sleep.

She always tried to disturb him as little as possible, tiptoeing around to make him more comfortable. Often draping his favourite blanket around his shoulders, or maybe dragging the futon over as quietly as possible, carefully inching him onto it limb by limb.

For now, he was tucked up on the couch, Noel dozing contently in his lap.

It still brought a smile to her face, thinking back to how he'd called her in the middle of the night, trying and failing to hide how pleased he was that he'd been allowed to keep her. Kyoya had almost immediately become furiously protective over her, and, according to Fuyumi, (who was a fairly unreliable source at the best of times), had to be talked down from bringing her to school with him.

Haruhi wasn't quite sure how much she believed that story, but she could see for a fact that Kyoya did indeed adore the kitten. Despite however much he tried to deny it.

With a fond shake of her head, she prised a book from his hands before it could fully slip from his grasp, marking his page with a nearby leaflet.

For good measure, she snapped a picture of him, and sent it to Tachibana.

He replied with three lines of grinning faces, and a promise to put in an obnoxiously large frame to embarrass the boy. A few minutes later, Fuyumi texted her to squeal over how precious her baby brother was, and to implore her to continue doing God's work. Evidently Tachibana had forwarded her the picture.

Kyoya, she knew, would murder her if he ever found out.

Good thing she was totally prepared to throw both adults under the bus at a moments notice. She rather liked to continue breathing, thank you very much.

He stirred as she tucked the blankets more firmly around his frame. She paused for a moment, concerned, but he merely shifted, and buried his head deeper into the pillow, shoulders heaving in a content sigh.

While he was busy off in dreamland, she buckled down and finished the rest of her homework, only taking a break to remove a newly-awakened Noel from his chest. She was quite happy to curl up in Haruhi's lap, the girl gently using her free had to scratch behind one soft ear.

When he finally woke, it was a drawn out affair, with long stretches and sleepy yawns.

"Hey." She greeted, absently chewing on the end of her pencil.

"Hey," He mumbled, drowsily rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Her chin came to rest on her hand, grinning widely at him. "You've got really bad bedhair."

"Deal with it."

After splashing water on his face, and stretching some more, he was significantly active enough to relieve her of Noel, the kitten scrambling to sit on his shoulder as he perused her bookcase.

She left him to his devices, reading the book that was originally his, the marker still soundly in place for when he decided to return to it.

"What's this?" Kyoya asked curiously, breaking the comfortable silence by putting a magazine down on the table.

"That, my dear friend, is a magazine." She lectured obnoxiously, not bothering to look up from her novel. "I don't suppose you get them up in Rich Land."

Kyoya rolled his eyes, pushing it directly under her nose. "I'm not an idiot. I was referring to this," His finger jabbed against the paper. "And could you really not think of a more creative name? I'm disappointed in you."

"Shut up," She replied, somewhat humoured, eyes scanning the text. "Hm, Twenty Questions? It's a party game. You take it in turns to ask each other questions, it's supposed to help you develop a deeper understanding of that person, I guess? Like, I could ask you, I don't know, what's your favourite colour?"

He wrinkled his nose, disdain clearly evident. "Trivial."

Haruhi carefully prised Noel off of him, setting her down on the relative safety of the floor.

"It's just an example, senpai. Obviously they're normally a little more provoking than that."

He snorted, flicking a further couple of pages with mild interest. "You wasted your money on this?"

"That's not mine. I'm not interested in those kinds of things." She replied, absently twirling her pencil. "Mei left it behind when she dropped by last week."

Evidently Kyoya had less than fond memories of that encounter, if his narrowed eyes were anything to go by. He and Mei seemed to just rub each other the wrong way on principle. It didn't help that Mei had decided to be extra clingy that day, glowering at the boy whenever he was in the vicinity. (Of course Kyoya's glare could rival even the coldest of Arctic days, leading to many long, awkward silences and a rather large headache for Haruhi).

Haruhi was about to return to her book, but a piercing gaze caught her off-guard. He studied her intently for a couple of seconds, appearing to be debating with himself. "It's brown." He said, eventually.

"Sorry?"

"My favourite colour."

She took a couple of seconds to register this. By that time, he'd quietly re-taken his seat. "I believe it's my turn now, correct?" After receiving a wordless nod, he continued. "Then… What's your favourite memory?"

"I'm sensing a pattern here." Haruhi deadpanned, and was quickly shushed by the boy. "Fine, I'll play ball." She intercepted Noel and carefully lifted the kitten back into her lap, more of a distraction than anything. "When I was younger, my mother would teach me to cook at the weekends and after work…"

He looked somewhat uncertain, as though worried they'd stumbled on dangerous territory. She smiled reassuringly back, gently squishing Noel's little paws.

Kyoya, after being ravaged by the aforementioned paws several times before, kept a considerable distance away as she danced with the devil.

"I loved spending time with her, she was always so patient and understanding, I learned a lot of what I know today from her. We'd practise by making meals for my dad- I was terrible when I started out, but he'd always eat it anyway, no matter how burnt or inedible. Always said it was the best food he'd ever tasted. So, I guess that kind of stuck with me? It makes me smile, even now."

Fondness dusted her smile, doe eyes clouded with reminiscence.

Kyoya shifted, breaking the spell. "She sounds like an amazing women, Haruhi. It's a shame I never was able to meet her."

"I think she would've liked you. The others, too."

"Even Tamaki?"

"Especially Tamaki-senpai. He's a bit of an idiot, but he would've reminded her of dad."

His gaze drifted just over her shoulder, settling on the shrine, lips quirking upwards slightly.

"So, it's my turn, now." She tapped her finger against her lips, thinking intently. "Well, then. Have you ever broken a bone?"

"Yes." He absently traced the table with a lazy finger. "When I was fourteen, I think. I broke my arm."

"How?"

"One question per turn." He reminded, tapping the rules. She pouted, but didn't bother to dispute that. "What's an example of something you're self-conscious of?"

Her eyebrows receded into her hairline. "Damn, you're stepping up your game."

"The point of the game is to learn about your partner, isn't it?"

Noel mewled and insistently pushed her head into the girl's hand. With a smile, she stroked her soft fur, eliciting a low, rumbling purr. "My fear of thunder."

The silence between them was filled with every word left unspoken. Maybe it was just his intense gaze alone that told her she had nothing to be ashamed of, for she smiled, head tilting to the side.

"How did you break your arm?"

He hesitated, grey orbs searching hers intently. Finally, his shoulders heaved a little sigh. "I fell out of a tree."

"You _what_?" She echoed, incredulously.

The slightest hint of a smile graced his lips. "I fell out of a tree." He repeated, somewhat resigned. "It was Tamaki's idea, of course. He claimed he'd seen some kids do it in one of those silly teen movies. I didn't see the appeal. Still don't, actually. But he begged and begged, and you know how he gets-"

She snorted. "He gave you those puppy dog eyes, and you couldn't refuse?"

His hand messed with his hair, breaking out into a real smile this time. "He did indeed. It took him a week to find the so-called Perfect Tree. Dragged me out at some ridiculous hour in the goddamn middle of winter to climb it. We did actually manage to get pretty high- I suppose that did bite me in the ass in the end. About three quarters of the way up, we took a break. It was entirely my mistake. I was the idiot that decided to stand- leant my arms on the one Tamaki had claimed, and we talked. A lot. But… what comes up, must come down."

"The branch broke?"

Kyoya merely nodded. "Right out from underneath me. I fell fifteen, maybe twenty foot? It's lucky I only broke my arm, really. Though, I did get some nasty gashes on my way down." He pulled his shirt up, and she could see a couple of faint white lines running over his hip. "Tamaki called Tachibana, and they took me to hospital. I had a cast on within two hours." He softened, fingers absently smoothing out the creases. "Apparently the moment I was out of sight, that idiot burst into tears."

"Of course he did." She shook her head, lightly. "And I imagine he felt really guilty for you getting hurt, too?"

"That's not even the half of it. Let's just say the experience was utter Hell, and I'd never wish it upon even my worst enemies." With a fond roll of his eyes, he stretched out his back. "Now, my turn. What do you hope your last words will be?"

Her following laugh was alight with joy. "Normally I'd say some profound spiel that makes you question life itself, but you and I know that's never going to happen. I'd like to hope they'll meaningful for my family, but knowing me, it'll probably be _'well, that's not ideal_ ' right before I die."

"That sounds like you. Frustrating everyone around you, even on your deathbed."

She threateningly held up a nearby pillow, and he raised his hands in surrender.

"When do you truly feel alive?"

The feeling of being dissected crawled up his back like an icy chill. Her eyes sliced past his defences, somehow managing to see right into his very soul, god forbid he even have one. "When I'm not forced to pretend to be someone I'm not." And yeah, the look in his eyes sent every sane part of her mind running, because he was out for revenge. "What lie do you tell most often?"

"I'm okay."

He appraised her thoughtfully for a moment. "Have you ever used that on me?"

She ignored his clear violation of the rules, her nails tip-tapping a little rhythm against her thigh. "Sometimes."

There was a soft silence where they stared at each other, before Kyoya climbed to his feet. "I'm going to make some tea. Want some?"

"Yes, please."

.

.

* * *

.

.

When Kyoya returned with two steaming mugs, he noticed Haruhi by the open window, elbows propped up on the ledge, staring out.

She'd been standing there for a while, letting the soft breeze play with her hair, a happy little smile tugging at her lips. Tinged gold by the last fading rays of sunlight, his eyes slowly sought out the way each lock would shine a deep russet, a peppering of copper and honey strands winking cheerfully as they caught the light.

Loathe he admit it, but his curiosity seized control, leading the boy to carefully making his way over, halting just a touch away. "Hey."

"Hey." She returned, softly, relieving him of her mug.

"What's so interesting out there?"

Her smile widened, head tipping to flash perfect white teeth at him in a childish little grin. "The sunset. It's so pretty today."

A low, acknowledging hum followed those words, and Kyoya quietly made himself comfortable next to her, a lazy arm braced on the ledge, curling just a breath away from her own. "Mundane."

"Oh, shush. You haven't even looked at it."

Which was true.

He hadn't.

Her fingers captured his jaw, gently moving his head up, up to stare at the horizon, and the way colour splashed across the sky.

It was beautiful.

Like fire- it consumed everything within view.

He cast a glance to the side, and Haruhi's eyes were illuminated in that brazen glow. In the same instant, they darted across and met his own, her head cocking curiously to the side.

All of a sudden, her touch was gone.

"You don't like it?"

His chin came to rest on his hand, lazily following the progress of several pedestrians, purely to delay answering. "It's temporary." Kyoya mused finally, a finger deftly adjusting his glasses, more out of habit than anything.

"Temporary?" She echoed, a clear encouragement to continue. He hesitated. "That's my question."

Damn her, using that silly game to her advantage. And damn him for being a pushover and letting her.

"While it may be perfect, breathtaking, even, you can look away for a mere second and everything would have changed. So, yes, it's temporary."

"Well," She intoned, slowly. "That doesn't mean you can't enjoy it."

Kyoya blinked, mulling over her words. His brows were furrowed, lips pursed in deep thought. "There is barely anything to enjoy. Before you can even fully comprehend it, it's gone, in an instant. It's… rather pointless when you think about it."

"Nothing lasts forever, Kyoya." _Kyoya._ "If people only liked permanent things, then there would be nothing to like, don't you think?"

His nose crinkled in confusion, and Haruhi mentally congratulated herself for _finally_ getting the stoic Kyoya Ootori to present what he was feeling truthfully. "What's the point of something that doesn't last?" He insisted.

She tapped her finger against her lips, thinking her answer through carefully. "The end of something doesn't change the fact that you still had it to begin with. Besides," Her fingers moved upwards, framing the sky in a little box. "You can always take a picture- that's rather more permanent than your memory, no?"

"I suppose that's an option. But… it's not the same," Kyoya angled his phone towards the array of colour, a wistful expression on his face. Haruhi herself had leaned in to look as well. "It feels like… something is missing, almost? An integral part of this image; the part that makes it so compelling. The beauty can't be captured by a lens this primitive."

She had fully turned to face him now, her thumb trailing thoughtfully across her lips. "You have this obsession with permanency. With _legacy._ But I think… I think it's more damaging than motivating. With you, everything seems to have to be important. To have meaning, or it doesn't serve some self-projected purpose."

"But of course." There was a shadow of emotion clouding his eyes. She was reminded vaguely of the turbulent water during a storm. "It is, after all, what is expected of me should I ever hope to succeed my father and become the next patriarch of the Ootori Empire. An action without clear merit is foolish, possibly devastating."

"And yet, here you are." She mused, quietly.

He cocked his head. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," She assured, and then laughed. "I guess I just found it funny how you say that, with you being here and all. I, for one, don't see the merit in it."

"In me protecting you?" He asked, slowly, staring at her as though she was insane.

Her smile strengthened, annoyingly bright, as if she knew something he didn't. It irked him. "Not exactly. I wonder, Kyoya-senpai, what exactly is the merit you gain in staying with me? You could quite easily have some of your men watch my apartment in your stead, like you do at night, yet you've never even considered it." She chuckled, light-heartedly. "Why do you bother setting up that cold front of yours when you're a genuinely nice guy? It seems kinda counter-intuitive to me."

In the distance, the faint, melodic trill of birdsong.

Kyoya stared at her, mouth somewhat unhinged. Maybe his brain had completely disconnected from his mouth? That would be the only explanation for his sudden incapability to speak. The idea of calm, collected, _articulate_ Kyoya Ootori being rendered speechless by mere words was utterly ridiculous.

Yet, entirely accurate.

 _But,_ he supposed, reasonably, _I wouldn't expect any less from her._

She really is a fascinating woman.

Haruhi smiled, observant enough to notice his dilemma. "While I get where you're coming from, Kyoya-senpai, not everything has to be that complicated. You can like something just for the simple pleasure of it."

By then, Kyoya had managed to recover his voice. "That's an intriguing notion, in its own way."

The brunette stretched her arms up above her head, whole body swaying as she worked out the stiffness from her muscles. "Meaning is overrated, anyway. Regardless of what'll happen, you have to admit, that's one hell of a sunset."

His teeth grazed across his bottom lip, a faraway look in his eyes as he digested those words. The next moment, Haruhi was privy to what she was certain was the softest, most genuine smile she'd see grace his features. "Yes, I suppose it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so self-indulgent but I honestly can't bring myself to care 
> 
> Me: I just want them to continue being cute dorky children as they live their best lives  
> Also me: MAKE THEM SUFFER


	12. Top Ten Anime Betrayals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoya done messes up, again, like the disaster that he is, and the truth is revealed.

The day began with Kyoya all but using her as a human shield.

Evidently the blond's patience had run thin. Tamaki "Utterly Done With Life" Suoh had practically frogmarched Kyoya into a disused room, (who in turn had latched onto Haruhi's lapel to pull her along with him), and demanded to know what was causing his mysterious cuts. Because, yeah, the normally pristine boy was rocking up with a new band aid each day.

"Kyoya, please. If something's going on, you know you can tell me, right?"

Haruhi was honestly surprised it took so long for Tamaki to flip his shit.

The straw that finally broke the camel's back was a too-hard tug on Kyoya's sleeve unearthing the white gauze over his wrist.

Of course, _she_ knew perfectly well that Noel was the root of the problem. (That prior knowledge didn't necessary stop her suffering a mini-heart attack after finding him dripping blood all over the kitchen. But actively seeing the devil spawn try to nip 'playfully' at Kyoya's fingers squashed any fears she may have had about the matter).

However, being a total and utter dumbass, Kyoya had decided to just _not_ mention the fact that he had adopted a particularly sadistic kitten, hence Tamaki's not entirely outlandish fears that Kyoya was doing it to himself.

Given the rather unfortunate placement of his newest injury, and the sheer size of it, Haruhi could see why he would be concerned.

Still, that didn't stop the bespectacled boy from rolling his eyes. "Don't be an idiot, Tamaki. I know what you're thinking, and the answer is _no._ "

With a small sigh, slender fingers softly teased the edge of the gauze. "What's this, then?"

"A cut." Kyoya lectured, deadpan, trying and failing to ignore the way his friend winced. "It's not like that." He added, more softly. And Haruhi could tell he was moments away from throwing himself out of the nearest window, just to escape this conversation.

Luckily, Tamaki turned his big blue eyes on Haruhi, who promptly flung up her hands in a _I-Don't-Know-It's-Not-My-Business-To-Say_ kinda way. Clearly, Kyoya wasn't sure whether to be relieved or irritated. Since he was the one who dragged her along in the first place, he settled on displeased.

"I'm _worried_ about you, Kyoya. First you're not sleeping well, then on top of that you're not eating well-" Wait, _what_. "-And now these cuts? What am I supposed to think?"

"Maybe not _that._ Have some faith in me, would you?"

"What do you _think_ I've been doing these past couple of weeks, idiot? I've been giving you the benefit of the doubt because it's _you,_ but you've really been making it hard to ignore."

Haruhi, pinching the bridge of her nose, shot Kyoya a very deliberate side-eye. He noticed, and scowled back, shaking his head. _Hell no._

She replied with a little jerk of her head in Tamaki's direction, and a pointed expression. _Tell him. He'll only keep pestering you._

Tamaki became increasingly bewildered with this interaction as Kyoya very clearly looked up for some merciful being to strike him down right there and then. When no smiting occured, he sighed, and waved a lazy hand towards his best friend. "Fine. Go ahead."

"So now _I'm_ the one that has to deal with your problems?"

He made himself comfortable leaning back against a set of desks, faux glaring over at her. "Don't even try to deny how much you're enjoying this."

And, okay, yeah, thinking up a counter argument would be pretty pointless, considering he was right.

Haruhi proceeded to waste no time throwing him under the metaphorical and (quite possibly a literal bus), spilling all to the concerned blond. ( _All_ being the bespectacled boy's unexpected soft side, not her resident stalker problem). She even flashed him the cute picture of Kyoya and Noel napping together- for added credibility, she claimed- which Tamaki thought was too cute for words.

It was a betrayal, she knew. The image had dented what little pride Kyoya had left, and Haruhi was well aware that he would extract his revenge on her. One way or another, she would pay.

On the other hand, her intervention rescued him from an extremely awkward situation, so she figured that made them even.

Kyoya remained subdued throughout the remainder of the day. She'd caught sight of him in passing when navigating the corridors, Tamaki prattling away next to him, but the glaze over his eyes suggested he was miles away, lost in his own mind. Lunch had been better, not good, but _better,_ and that was something at least.

But he'd retreated in on himself again once reaching Music Room #3, so much so that she worriedly pulled him aside, to the far corner of the room where they could actually hear themselves think.

"Do you need some painkillers?"

Kyoya blinked, his face briefly taking on an adorably confused expression. "What?"

"Painkillers." She repeated. "I have some in my bag. Do you need any?"

"Oh, no. I meant, _why?_ "

Frowning, Haruhi observed him more closely. "You've been kinda quiet today. I thought maybe you were being a dumbass and suffering in silence again."

Maintaining eye contact or not, the fact that his fingers were absently playing with his sleeve was pretty unusual. For him, at least. "No, I'm fine. I suppose I've just been lost in thought."

"You sure? You really have been kinda spacey today. It's not like you."

From behind, there was a strangled yell and the distinct thud of a shirt falling… with someone in it. Followed, strangely, by the thunderous clanging of metal and apparently the screech of a stray cat? A beat of silence, before they were graced with Tamaki's distant " _I'm okay!"_

Both Haruhi and Kyoya visibly sweatdropped.

"I'm positive." He drawled, eventually. Haruhi raised a critical eyebrow. "Oh, do quit doing that with your face."

"Frowning?" She asked, a hint of a smile creeping in.

"Yes, that. Stop it. It's annoying." Somewhat more seriously, he continued. "While I do admit the gauze is rather bothersome, it's nothing I can't handle. I appreciate your concern, Haruhi, but I definitely learned my lesson the first time around. I'd honestly rather die than go through that again."

"Always so dramatic."

"Blame Tamaki. It's practically infectious at this point."

The tight bunch of her shoulders relaxed as she laughed. "Okay, I'll take your word for it." She gently tapped his wrist. "You should change that soon. Call me if you need a hand, I know it can be a pain."

"You're acting like my sister." He complained, nose all crinkled up with displeasure.

"Mhm, well you actually listen to her."

"In what universe?"

She snorted, lightly punching his shoulder. "I don't know how she puts up with you." A beat, and then she pursed her lips together. "Seriously though, you should get a clean bandage. There should be some in the first aid kit. And if you need help-"

"Call you, I know. Believe it or not, I _can_ follow simple instructions."

Haruhi didn't even bother to acknowledge that. Mostly because they both knew it was bullshit. Kyoya was a stubborn mule, rather like her, actually. He'd rather dig his own grave and lie in it than admit he couldn't do something.

Very quickly their little moment of respite was shattered by a hurricane-level entrance from the twins, who swept her up in the blink of an eye and all but teleported to the centre of the room. She was almost certain they left after-images at the speed they were travelling, leaving a windswept and somewhat confused Kyoya in their wake. It turned out they were just excited to show her their new designs, which Tamaki was eagerly modelling for them. Luckily for her sanity, they seemed to be taking it relatively seriously, which was a miracle in itself.

Though Haruhi couldn't help but internally wonder why they chose _now_ as an appropriate time for a fashion show. Then again, the lengths the twins were willing to go to skip out on their usual Host Club meeting were quite astounding, up to and including Hikaru claiming the two had both died in a freak accident involving a stray banana peel and falling bookcases.

It took ten minutes for Kyoya to track them down and have Mori haul them up to Music Room #3, both complaining wildly the whole way.

Said boy had apparently decided to stay clear of the three resident disasters and was seated a safe distance away, occasionally chipping in his own two cents, but mostly taking pictures on the phone Kaoru had shoved into his hands.

Haruhi, on the other hand, was caught up right in the middle, and found herself having to give halfway intelligent replies whilst knowing next to nothing about fashion. Thankfully both Hikaru and Kaoru seemed pretty satisfied with her bullshit so far, so she congratulated herself with an imaginary pat on the back for her natural ability to talk out of her ass.

At some point, Honey decided he wanted in on the action, and Mori dutifully followed. Given the vast height difference, there weren't really any designs able to fit either of them, so they ended up rummaging through old cosplay costumes in the back room, emerging as a pirate and a fireman respectively. And then, of course, Tamaki insisted Haruhi join in, and she very quickly found herself decked in an artfully baggy sweater and skinny jeans combo that the twins _must_ have had on standby just in case.

Unbeknownst to her, Kyoya had moved to a closer table. She caught sight of him purely by accident, having danced away from the twins who had been posing dramatically with her for the last couple of minutes.

Seated atop said table, legs crossed neatly underneath him, the boy saluted lazily, before going right back to snapping pictures. He caught her eye, and made a twirling motion with his finger, lips curled up in a little smirk. She flipped him off, but then Tamaki threw an arm around her shoulders and coerced her into being a nice little model, which she could tell that damn glasses-wearing bastard found hilarious.

She shot him a glare when no-one was looking, slinking off to go sit down for a little bit.

Her phone pinged not a second later, a message from Kyoya that consisted of a zoomed in mug of her face. Bristling, Haruhi spun around, only to find Kyoya valiantly smothering his laughter into the crook of his elbow.

_Dork._

With legendary timing, Tamaki chose then to commandeer the attention of everyone in the room with an absolutely ridiculous striped sweats, leather jacket and _lime green fucking crocs_ combo that had both Hikaru and Kaoru wheezing for breath, crying literal tears. And okay, yeah, Haruhi would like to say that she handled that sight maturely, but in reality she was laughing so hard she fell off her chair and knocked over a table during her hasty descent.

Once she'd recovered, and causally slid herself back onto her chair as though she had not just been curled up on the floor, struggling to so much as a single breath, she began formulating a plan on how to subtly advise a somehow totally oblivious Tamaki to change without him taking a sledgehammer to his pride.

(Spoiler; it was impossible, and Tamaki ended up huddled in his Corner of Woe despite her valiant effort).

Haruhi, being The Greatest Friend Ever™ left the others to deal with the fallout, and dragged Kyoya into their little makeshift kitchen to change the dressing over his wound.

"That was a perfectly clean counter you just decided to plant yourself on."

She levelled him with gaze that showed _just_ how little she cared about that fact, and even wriggled a little bit more, just to piss him off.

"Not anymore."

Rolling his eyes, Kyoya slapped the first aid kit next to her. And when one of the cabinet handles protruded into his leg, he simply shuffled her along a couple of inches, before getting settled once more, arm sprawled in her lap.

"Is it really necessary to disinfect it again?" He asked, eyeing the wad of cotton wool with distaste.

"You of all people know it is. Stop being a baby and hold still." For the most part, his only reaction was the subtle jump in his jaw. And hey, she tried to be as gentle as possible, but it was pretty hard when the cut spanned almost half the distance from his wrist to his elbow. "Do you think it'll scar?"

He contemplated it for a moment, arm actually shaking from how firmly he was locking it in place. "I'm not entirely sure. Hopefully it won't, I don't usually scar very easily."

Acknowledging that with a little hum, Haruhi dabbed the damp wool over the far edge of his wound. "There. You can relax now, the worst part is over."

He did, leaning more heavily into the counter, tapping the very tip of his shoe-clad foot to a tuneless rhythm. "Tighter." He commented, airily, as she began wrapping his arm up. "That's too loose, it'll slip." Brows furrowed in concentration, she tried again, glancing over for approval. "Better. I'll tell you if it hurts."

All in all, it took the better part of a two minutes before Haruhi was quietly packing away the materials, having Kyoya store the kit back under the sink. "You need to be more careful."

"It's not like I want to be scratched."

"I know," Haruhi amended, shoving her hands in his face. "But look at my three _tiny_ cuts compared to all of yours."

Lips curling upwards in that damned impossible smirk of his, he leaned both arms into her lap, head tilted up to look at her properly. And okay, with him sitting on his hip like that, she was definitely taller than him, which she couldn't help but triumph over. "While that's truly fascinating, need I remind you that-" He broke off sharply at the sound of another voice.

"What are you two doing in here?"

"Nothing." They both immediately replied, Kyoya quickly pulling his sleeve down to hide the tell-tale whiteness as he straightened back up.

Hikaru's eyebrows receded into his hairline, but he didn't say anything. Haruhi helped him grab some soda cans for the others, a grumbling Kyoya trailing after her as he finally succumbed to the realisation that they _really_ weren't getting anything done in this damn meeting.

.

.

* * *

.

.

The next day was Haruhi's turn to look like utter shit.

She woke up at 1AM, and instead of torturing herself with more nightmares, she decided to just teach herself the material that would be covered during the day, given the fact that there was no way in Hell she would be concentrating at all after all that. To make herself look hopefully less brain-dead than she felt, Haruhi downed two cups of seriously strong coffee before Kyoya arrived, and then a third during breakfast, leaving her vaguely twitching, and Kyoya most certainly alarmed.

Still, she somehow managed to make it through the day, and then through Hosting Hours, (which was an untold horror in itself), collapsing into her favourite chair at the end, slowly working herself out of the blanket Kyoya had dumped over her head some minutes earlier.

Once her head finally popped out of the makeshift prison she found that her hair resembled a bird's nest. The shittest bird's nest in existence. The shittest, most _static_ bird's nest in existence, Kaoru discovered, when he got a nasty shock after attempting to flatten it. Cursing, he shook his hand out, throwing her a vaguely wounded look as though it were _her_ fault he got zapped.

"Sorry?" She tried. _Tried_ because yeah, you guessed it, she wasn't apologetic in the least, and had actually found that pretty funny. What a dirty rotten liar she was.

Frowning, he leant a little closer into her personal space. "You know, you look a little pale. Don't tell me the boss actually crushed your lungs this time?"

Her eyes widened ever so slightly.

Kaoru, ever observant, noticed it. So she smiled, ignoring Tamaki's protests of " _What!? Me, hurt my precious daughter? That it a completely unfounded accusation! Mummy, tell them it's not true!"_

She'd gotten better at faking them. "I'm fine, Kaoru. It's probably just the lighting."

"Yeah, sure you are."

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Kaoru slowly turned his attention on Kyoya, who was scribbling absently in his notebook. "What?"

Hearing the thinly veiled threat behind his tone, the boy raised his head, blinking in confusion. "What."

"What did you just say?"

Apparently realising that, _yes you utter dickwad, you just said that out loud,_ Kyoya's face drained of colour. For approximately three seconds, he froze, but then he caught her eye and she really, _really_ did not like that gleam. "She's lying. She's not fine, she's anything but."

"What are you doing?" She asked, anxiously, voice dangerously high.

"Telling the truth."

"Kyoya-senpai-"

"She's being stalked." And there it was, without preamble. No drum rolls, no dramatic build ups, he just word-vomited right there and then, almost stumbling over himself to get it out. "He's been hanging around since the end of August, at least. I've been doing my best, but nothing is working."

Every bit ounce of betrayal she was feeling must have shown on her face, because he bit his lip and looked away.

"You-" She swallowed down the lump in her throat, hard and sharp as flint. "You promised. You _promised_ you wouldn't get them involved."

He slowly shook his head. "No, I don't believe I did. Mori-senpai was the one you directed all those promises at. Not me." And then there was a flinch as he realised he'd gone and thrown Mori under the bus, too. "Look, I've let you have your way for far longer than I should've. I've been risking too much for too long. I need their help."

She snorted derisively, distantly she was aware of how bratty she was acting, but she couldn't do a thing to stop herself. " _You_ need help?"

"Yes." That got to him. She could see the slightest flicker of hurt. "Surprising, isn't it? That I'm human, and can't do everything by myself." There it was, the returning jab she'd been expecting. "Your pride is going to get you killed, Haruhi. We _need_ them."

She didn't know whether she wanted to hit him. Or scream at him. Or both. He hadn't just upset her. He'd betrayed her trust.

Again.

And he knew it.

There was no pride in his features. He was resigned. Exhausted. Maybe a little desperate.

A wave of apathy washed over her, like a sudden chill. "Do what you want." Dull eyes sought out a distraction, and settled on a nearby cup of tea. It was scalding hot. She drank it anyway, unflinchingly.

"Wait." Hikaru exclaimed finally, waving his hands around erratically. "Wait, wait, wait. What the hell do you mean she's being _stalked_?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, Hikaru."

"You mean-" He grasped wildly, way more confused than he was entitled to be. "So you guys _aren't_ fucking?"

Kyoya choked on his water. " _What."_

"Hikaru!" Kaoru reprimanded, easily ignoring the way Tamaki practically imploded on himself, dissolving into a huge mound of ashes from his spontaneous combustion. "You can't just yell stuff like that, jeez. What he meant is, you two aren't dating?"

Somewhat flustered, the boy managed to find his voice. His very _hoarse_ voice. "Of course not. What would ever give you that impression?"

There was a beat, before Hikaru started pulling his hair out, and Kaoru shrieked "Oh, _come on_!"

In rapid fire, the twins began listing, each point so sharp he almost felt it pierce him. (In the background, Honey had suffered a massive face fault and Tamaki was busy trying to kill himself via smacking his head against the nearest convenient wall. Even Mori looked disappointed).

"Dude, she wears your _clothes._ You've been irritatingly clingy, always whispering behind her backs- seriously do you guys not realise how touchy feely you are? It's disgusting. I think I might have Type II diabetes just from watching you disasters. Literally just the other day I walked in on you guys making out in the kitchen, I lost 10,000 yen for that, by the way-"

" _You took bets!?"_

"- Of course we took bets, dumbass. Couldn't have waited until next week, could you? Now, where was I?"

"Car." Kaoru provided, helpfully.

"Right, yeah. You take her to and from school. In your car. You don't even let Tamaki-senpai ride with you half the time! And speaking of Tamaki-senpai, he says you've got cute pictures of each other on your phones. _And_ you've been blowing off events to hang out with her. Not to mention those little lovers quarrels of yours."

" _They were_ not _lovers quarrels."_

"AND," Kaoru continued, even louder. "When we picked Haruhi up to play way back when, we found _this-_ " Kyoya was promptly nailed in the head by something soft and vaguely silky. Ah, his handkerchief, neatly embroidered with the initials O.K. He'd been wondering where that had disappeared to. "What _else_ were we supposed to think?"

"Not _that,_ maybe?" A beat, and then his eyes widened. "Oh. That's why you've all been acting so strangely." He shot the twins a glare. "Taking my things." Then Tamaki. "Making us study at Haruhi's." Then Honey, who smiled back innocently. "Literally everything else."

"That's beside that point." Hikaru dismissed, which sounded like an excuse to ignore all crap he and his brother had pulled in the span of this imagined relationship. "What you're telling us is that you've known she's been in danger this whole time and you _didn't tell us?"_

There it was.

Kyoya had definitely been waiting for the nuclear meltdown.

The lead up was gradual, slowly evolving into white hot rage. When Hikaru finally blew his top off, yelling about how he should've told them earlier, how irresponsible he was, it was like a supernova. But when the redhead advanced on him- that was when everything was made abundantly clear. A finger jabbed against his chest. Forcefully, but not enough to hurt.

Except Kyoya took a step back.

Like he expected that hand to sock him in the jaw, instead of merely poke him.

Kyoya had _flinched._

He _expected_ to get hit.

Maybe some part of him thought he deserved it, too.

But he didn't.

Silence.

The two stared each other down.

Kyoya's features slipped back into indifference.

Hikaru slowly lowered his hands and backed away. Eyes still seeing red, but breathing significantly evened out, he spat out a quiet, "Sorry."

A small, barely visible nod of acceptance, and then Kyoya began explaining once more, like the interruption never even happened.

But it did.

At some point, Honey had handed her Usa-chan. Haruhi accepted the toy merely to please him, giving the soft plush a little squeeze. Honey wasn't the one she was angry with, after all. Kyoya would be the sole bearer of her anger, for he was the one who had done wrong. Nobody else deserved to be treated any differently.

Speaking of the others, she was rather impressed with how maturely Tamaki, for one, dealt with the news.

Hikaru of course, looked as though he was barely containing himself. Kaoru was fairing only slightly better; Kyoya had willingly given up his precious notebook to the younger twin sometime during their impromptu meeting. Flipped open to the back, Kaoru had initially intended to take notes, but that idea crashed and burned faster than most of Tamaki's fantasies. Very quickly, he succumbed to venting his emotions by scratching dark black scribbles across the paper, as if it had wronged him in some way.

Kyoya himself looked pained at the treatment of his notebook, but fought valiantly to overlook it.

"He approached me not long ago."

The pen nib tore through the paper, a loud, drawn out noise that tasted like nails on a chalkboard.

Six pairs of eyes were aimed solely at him. Kyoya didn't shrink beneath their gaze, he merely tapped a couple of keys on his laptop, displaying the document to them with the reluctance of someone who knew they were taking a swan-dive straight into trouble.

He'd wrote a detailed account of the experience, which Mori was now skimming through.

"You didn't tell me." Haruhi said, and even though her voice was quiet, it was like whiplash.

"Nor me." The tall boy raised a silent, questioning eyebrow.

"I know." He paused, fingers itching. He wanted the pen. She knew he wanted the pen. He wanted his pen and paper so he could write or draw or do something with his hands because he needed to keep them busy so they didn't fidget and he absolutely _didn't want to look at her_. But he had neither, and so steel grey orbs focused just over her shoulder and hoped she wouldn't notice. "I didn't know how to. With Noel's arrival you appeared to be the happiest you had been in weeks, I… I suppose I didn't want to ruin that. Tachibana disagreed with the decision completely but…"

He said nothing else.

For once, Kyoya Ootori had no words.

"What did he want?" She kept her voice even.

Shouting would do no good.

It felt as though the entire room was collectively holding their breath.

A muscle in his jaw worked furiously. After a prolonged moment, he pushed down his indecision. "You."

She processed this, and nodded.

No words.

Just a nod.

A cue to elaborate.

"Haruhi, you've got to understand, he's… unbalanced." Kyoya shifted, tugging at his sleeve. "The whole experience was extremely unsettling. But the main issue was his insistence on referring to you as Naomi."

Haruhi's eyes widened. It was Honey who spoke, though, his head cocked in confusion. "Um, I don't get it. Who's Naomi?"

"Takeda's wife." Haruhi murmured.

Kyoya confirmed this with a nod. "Deceased wife. She took her life years back due to, well, personal reasons… it seems he hasn't ever quite recovered from it."

"So," She hesitated, confused and fearful and just plain exhausted. "He thinks I'm his wife?"

"Not exactly." His fingers slowly raked through his hair. "He knows his wife is dead. Or, was dead, I suppose?" He shook his head, aggravated. "It's confusing. He was babbling on about… I don't know, about the Gods heeding his prayer and giving him a sign or _something-_ It's insane but he's deluded himself into thinking you're the reincarnation of his wife."

"That doesn't make any sense." Hikaru snapped. "Who the hell would think something like that?"

"A severely depressed man with nothing left to live for."

The boy flushed pink, and picked viciously at his cuticles in lieu of replying. Kyoya pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to relax. "You're right. In practise, it doesn't make sense at all. The ages don't even match- Haruhi was already born when Naomi-san passed. The point is _he doesn't care._ If something doesn't fit into this fantasy world he's created for himself, then it is erased, or distorted in such a way that it works."

"That's bull-" Kaoru's curse was cut short by a very severe look from Tamaki. "I mean, that's stupid. How can he think that's true?"

Kyoya heaved a tired shrug. " _I don't know."_

"I think," Tamaki ventured, speaking for the first time. "That's what's been bothering him so much."

Kyoya shot his friend a grateful look. "From what I can gather, the truth doesn't matter to him."

They stewed in silence for a couple of minutes, digesting this information with various amounts of difficulty. Eventually, Kyoya rocked forward, dragging attention back onto himself. "There isn't really anything more to note. Hotta must have heard the commotion, he split us apart soon after that."

"Split you apart?" Tamaki echoed, brows creased with concern.

If anything, Kyoya looked even more uncomfortable. Apparently, he expected that part to go straight over everyone's heads.

He was mistaken.

"I may have attempted to take a shortcut through the underground parking lot. It was raining outside, and I didn't want to get wet. We may have gotten into an… _altercation…_ that may or may not have ended with me trying to walk away from him. I didn't hear him approach and he _may_ have shoved me up against the wall."

Haruhi sat up straight in her seat. "The day you found Noel, you had a graze on your cheek." Unwilling eyes snapped to her as she pointed to her own face. "Right here. You claimed Noel had scratched you, like she had with your hands, but that was a lie. I didn't think it looked like a cat scratch at the time… now I understand. You got hurt from that, didn't you?"

"Yes." A breath that hitched halfway through. "Haruhi, he vowed to take you back from me. To _rescue_ you. To take you _home_. Like I was keeping you prisoner or something. I honestly thought he was going to-" He swallowed, abandoning that line of thought rather hastily. "Look, he's strong. A lot stronger than he seems, actually. He took my elbow to his face and didn't even flinch. Hotta even had a bit of a struggle pulling him off of me."

"Well, Kyoya-senpai, you don't exactly work out like Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai do." Kaoru reasoned, cautiously. "Maybe you just didn't hit him very hard."

Kyoya smiled tight-lipped, but Tamaki interrupted before he could even so much as nod. "That's not true." He said, in a flat tone. And Haruhi realised that he was the most concerned of them all. "Tachibana-san has been teaching Kyoya self defence for a while now."

"Which I believe I asked you to keep to yourself." Kyoya interrupted, sharply, throwing a poisonous glare at his friend.

Tamaki held his hands up in defence, while she was left to her own musings, trapped in a vague victorious feeling that her suspicions on Kyoya's slowly developing build had been correct. "You did indeed, I apologise, Kyoya."

He sighed, deeply, before addressing Haruhi directly. "My father has been dropping hints for a while now. I won't be able to continue skipping events, and leaving you alone isn't an option. Takeda knows more than I expected about you. It's only a matter of time before he learns your address. I need their help."

Her tea was cold now.

She was tempted to refill it.

Tempted to take it scalding again.

"I don't have a choice now, do I?" She returned, and placed the cup on the table.

So they talked some more, until Haruhi could feel herself growing numb.

Kyoya, too, was ready to drop. He hid it well, but underneath it all, Haruhi could see the exhaustion. Finally, he called an end to their meeting.

They left together, silently.

No words were exchanged at all during the car ride home, nor as they trudged up the stairs to her apartment.

Once inside, she stilled. "I can't believe you did that again."

"I was trying to protect you."

"You took away my choice. You said you wouldn't do that again, senpai. You promised me, in fact, that you wouldn't make decisions regarding _my_ wealthare without consulting me first. You _lied_. Did you even mean any of those promises?"

"Of course I did."

"Then why did you break them?"

More silence. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, lips merely forming soundless words.

"You had the opportunity to take me outside the room and discuss the option of telling the others. You had the option of getting Mori-senpai involved more. But did you act on either of those? No. No you did not." She threw her hands up in exasperation. "You haven't been truthful with me, Kyoya-senpai. This is the first I'm hearing about this pressure from your dad, this confrontation with Takeda. You deliberately kept secrets. _Again_. How am I supposed to trust you if you can't extend the same courtesy to me? How am I supposed to _help_ you if you don't let me?"

His hand messed with his hair with alarming force. "I was _just_ trying to protect you."

He had no other defence.

"Is that all you have to say to me?"

Hesitation. "I don't know what else you want from me."

She snorted humorlessly, her back facing him. "Please leave."

A noise of surprise, right at the back of his throat. His eyes immediately met hers and held them. "What?"

"I said, please leave."

Behind the glare of his glasses, steel orbs softened into wounded uncertainty. "Haruhi-"

"Don't make me say it again, Kyoya-senpai. I'm really annoyed right now, I need some space to think."

Her scowl was unyieling, narrowed eyes sharp enough to slice through metal. They were normally so soft, like molten chocolate and warm sunshine, he often forgot that those brown eyes could quickly become the stormy rocks that destroyed ships.

After a moment of hesitation, he quietly collected his belongings and headed out through the door, closing it softly behind him.

She tried to compose herself.

To remain strong-willed.

It proved too much for her, and she carefully picked her way over to the window, cautiously peeking out.

He was slumped on the floor, back jammed against the railings. Head tipped up to the sky, eyes closed, she couldn't miss the way his expression was twisted with regret. After an extended moment of quiet cursing, he slammed his fist against the ground, the resounding crash making her jump.

Pained eyes followed his dejected progress down the stairs, into his awaiting car.

They didn't leave.

They didn't leave until her father returned home, and she pointedly ignored his query about Kyoya's whereabouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone @ Kyoya: Why are you like this 
> 
> He can't go one chapter without being an utter disaster omg


	13. I Can't Believe You've Done This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tamaki struggles to repair his friend's friendship, and a stray piece of popcorn almost causes an untimely end for Haruhi.

Contrary to the belief of most, Tamaki wasn't entirely stupid.

He was eccentric, yes. What with his various schemes and crazy half-baked ideas that somehow (most probably due to the intervention of his more level-headed friends) almost always evolved into something quite fantastic, if he did say so himself. Not to mention the sheer scale of his energy was nothing to laugh at either- in his exasperation, Kyoya often compared it to the unholiest of sugar rushes. And while that was all good and dandy, Tamaki also knew that his overzealous nature and reckless tendencies caused his friends no end of trouble.

But he liked to hope that he had his heart in the right place, and that was what mattered the most, wasn't it?

If not, then he was pretty much doomed.

At least he had his dashing looks and charming personality to fall back on, if all else failed.

Still, he had a point amongst all the rambling, and the point was that he did in fact have a brain, to the surprise of many.

_(Upon hearing the news, Hikaru and Kaoru had outright fainted from the shock._

_Tamaki, with all seriousness, suggested throwing them in the pool._

_Like the killjoy he was, Kyoya vetoed that particular idea in order to continue having a living, breathing best friend. The Twin's following revenge would be sweet and oh so satisfying- for them)._

Along with a brain, surprisingly enough, Tamaki also had the marvelous wonder that was _eyesight._

So the blond could quite easily see that it really wasn't Kyoya's proudest moment when his last two brain cells decided to abandon him, packing up and heading somewhere nice and toasty warm near the start of his Word-Vomit-Turned-Explanation / Half-Betrayal / Possibly-Full-Betrayal / Whatever-the-Hell-It-Was Fiasco.

By the end, Haruhi was pissed, and stressed and just plain exhausted, while Kyoya looked ten years older, practically oozing regret. Honestly, that boy was in dire need of some nourishment, and a thousand year nap.

Everyone emerged from that Hellish meeting drained.

Aside from the two resident disasters, the twins had always struggled with understanding and controlling their emotions, and so were the most visibly upset. Mori and Honey took them back home with them, where, according to the numerous pictures forwarded to the blond, the brothers were calmed through the combined wonder of Piyo-chan and Pome-chan, the amazing therapy animals.

_(Yes, Tamaki did feel slightly jealous. The lil chick and Tanuki pair were adorable, and were perfect to cuddle with._

_Thankfully, his darling Antoinette was more than willing to snuggle up with him, even if she gave him wet, slobbery kisses in return)._

The following day was just plain unnerving.

A collective cloud of unease had settled over the Host club, who waited in tense anticipation for the ticking time bomb to detonate. All throughout the day they sat on edge, wondering what would be the single spark to set off the meltdown.

But neither Haruhi nor Kyoya seemed in any rush to continue their feud. For the most part, both parties kept their distance. Maybe that was what was Tamaki found most unusual- the two had gone from close friends, to practically strangers in a single night. The air between them was stagnant and turbulent, filled with everything left unsaid.

Neither of them took the first crucial step to bridge the gap.

In fact, neither of them seemed to even acknowledge the gap was there in the first place, leaving the remaining hosts armed only with masking tape to try and repair that big, gaping creavess that had amassed between them.

For the most part, Tamaki let them be.

They strung thin sheets of paper over the cracks, and pretended like they weren't there.

But they were.

No amount of tissue paper could cover it up. They were exposed, vulnerable, raw flesh peeking out through not-so-perfectly cultivated facades. Kyoya was falling apart at the seams, haggard stitching loosening, that strong wall falling apart bit by bit, and all he could do was _watch._

Well, fuck that.

Like _Hell_ he was going to sit around again.

Tamaki would trust Kyoya with his life. Willingly. Without question, or even the most fleeting of doubts. Tamaki would trust Kyoya, his best friend, his _brother_ , with his _life._

And there lies the problem.

Kyoya was by far _the_ most self-sacrificing _dumbass_ to exist on this goddamn planet. That moron would wholly and completely neglect himself for the sake of his friends, and Tamaki absolutely _hated_ him for it.

So no.

_No_.

Those two needed to grow the fuck up and learn to _talk to each other_ rather than be shitty little five year olds all wrapped up in stupid mistakes.

A group chat was made, hosting had officially been cancelled for the day, and the assigned members gathered in a somewhat nervous huddle in the safety of Music Room #3, decked out in appropriate spy gear.

"Are we all here?" Violet eyes panned the group, before giving a satisfied nod. "Good, then we shall begin. I've gathered us all here to discuss the present state of things between You-Know-Who. I think we can all agree that we are equally unhappy about how they're handling this disagreement."

"Understatement of the year." Hikaru muttered, slouching further against his table.

"As things stand," Tamaki continued, shooting the redhead a short glare for his interruption. "Haruhi is still rather annoyed at Kyoya, who in turn is annoyed at everything and everyone... including himself. Well, mostly himself, really. Now, we need to change this as soon as possible! To do this, I propose an intervention."

Whiteboard pen in hand, Tamaki ripped the lid off with his teeth, poise dripping with the elegance that came naturally to him.

"The Cheer up Haruhi plan?" Kaoru recited, amber eyes roaming across the header Tamaki had printed out in neat characters, clearly unimpressed. "Boss, you could've at least come up with a more creative name than _that._ "

"Yeah," Hikaru had the same scrutinizing gaze. "Can we call it something else? Something cooler?"

"Quiet, you two doppelgangers. We don't have time for your petty nit-picking."

He was met with a less than enthusiastic reaction from said twins, and was promptly nailed in the head by a ball of paper.

"Boo!"

"Spoilsport!"

Tamaki could almost certainly feel a vein in his temple throbbing. Two seconds away from snapping back at the demon pair, sweet, sweet angelic Honey swept in with all the innocence that his small, stuffed-rabbit tooting, eighteen year old self could muster. Which was a _lot._ "Well, I like it." He chipped in, with a smile akin to a pout, lethal enough to stop girl's hearts at several feet. "It's short and sweet, just like Haru-chan."

And that just about cinched it.

Hikaru and Kaoru digested this information for a split second, before nodded slowly, relaxing back into their respective perches.

"Now, back to the task at hand. Does anyone have any ideas?"

"I think we should just leave her alone." Was Honey's sage advice, the small boy contently swinging his feet back and forth. "Haru-chan likes peace and quiet, so we should just stay out of her way."

"Yeah. Don't bother her." Mori agreed, sternly.

Tamaki deflated, an audible hiss of air sounding as he sagged in on himself. "But- but that might take _forever_!"

"We don't have forever." Hikaru deadpanned, shifting in agitation.

"I can barely stand another day watching them like that." Kaoru agreed, scowling.

Honey considered this with a tilt of his head. "Okay… I think I get it. We wanna make Haru-chan and Kyo-chan make up as fast as possible, right?" Struck with a second wind, Tamaki nodded frantically. "So to do that, you want to cheer Haru-chan up so she's more likely to forgive Kyo-chan?" Tamaki's head was practically a blur. Honey happily clapped his hands together. "Then we should do something Haru-chan likes!"

Hikaru visibly swept dropped. To his side, his twin mirrored his expression perfectly. "I thought we already established that?" The redhead whispered, head bowed close to Kaoru's ear.

"So did I. He looks like he's solved some giant mystery."

Still, the two elected not to comment, considering Honey could quite easily snap them like a twig.

"That begs the all important question. What does Haruhi _like_?"

Hikaru cocked an uncertain brow. "Food…?" He offered, voice tapering off at the end.

Apparently that seemed like a reasonable answer, for Tamaki added it to the list.

"Books!" Honey exclaimed.

"Fancy tuna!" Was Kaoru's contribution.

"Fancy tuna counts as food." Hikaru disagreed, which elicited a hurt whimper from his twin.

"Hikaru, you're so mean. How could you just embarrass me in front of everybody like that?"

"Oh, Kaoru." The redhead breathed, gently turning his chin back to face him, hands clasped in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Do you think you could find it in yourself to forgive me?"

"Hikaru!" He sniffled, accepting the offered embrace… and then yelping when the whiteboard pen smacked him upside the head. "Ow! That hurt! What was that for, Tamaki-senpai?"

"Quit messing around! This is a serious problem, you need to focus!"

"We're bored!"

"Yeah, and we're never going to get anywhere with this stupid plan of yours." Kaoru commandeered the pen, while Hikaru hip-checked the blond out of the way. "Move over, we'll take it from here." Addressing the eldest two with a bright smile, he continued. "Ignore everything he just said, what Haruhi really needs right now is a good laugh. That always cheers us up, right Kaoru?"

"Right," The redhead nodded, carelessly wiping off Tamaki's not-so-detailed plan, much to his anguish, if his high-pitched whimper was anything to go by. "New plan: We prank Tamaki-senpai relentlessly-"

"Why me?!"

"Because you're an easy target, keep up, Senpai."

Kaoru clicked his tongue, shooting Tamaki a glare when he opened his mouth to whine some more. "As I was _saying_ , practical jokes always improve people's moods, the crazier the better. Trust us, we'll have Haruhi smiling in no time."

At which point Hikaru made the childish move of sticking his tongue out at the blond, and Tamaki made an equally childish move and pulled the whiteboard away from the two, holding it out of their reach. "You fools lack the finesse needed for this task, you're off the mission. Haruhi is far too mature for something like that. She is-"

"Right behind you."

Two things happened at once.

Tamaki and the twins both screamed, and the whiteboard went sailing through the open window, apparently landing on several metallic objects and a stray cat.

Looking like she was clearly questioning her choice in friends, Haruhi sighed. "I'm fine you guys. This is really unnecessary."

Having recovered enough to form sentences that were _probably_ coherent to somebody _somewhere_ in the world, Tamaki managed what was quite possibly his least eloquent conversation to date. " _WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"_

Kyoya had followed in behind her, and looked as though he sincerely regretted it. Instead, he held up his phone, which was open on their not-so-secret group chat. "A word of advice, Tamaki. Next time you hold a secret meeting about someone, don't add them into the group chat discussing the said meeting."

He felt more than saw the colour drain from his own face. "How long have you been in that?"

Haruhi observed him with mild interest, apparently finding his plight somewhat amusing. "Since the beginning. I was curious to see how long it would take you to notice."

So yes, that was not exactly his proudest moment.

Flustered, Tamaki spent about an hour huddled in his Corner of Woe, with only his precious Kuma-chan and a carelessly thrown blanket to keep him company. For the remainder of that night (and well into the morning), Tamaki planned relentlessly, finally settling on what should have been the most simple and obvious solution all along.

Upon entering the classroom, he immediately straddled his chair, turning to face Kyoya, who was sipping some unidentified liquid from a thermos flask.

His planned speech disappeared in an instance, replaced by suspicion and disappointment. "Is that coffee?"

Kyoya raised an eyebrow. "Clearly it's poison."

" _Kyoya_."

Lazy eyes blinked up at him, registering his typical warning tone. Still, he took another deliberately long sip before answering. "Mhm. It's coffee."

"Did you have breakfast?"

"Mm _hm_." Tamaki levelled him a severe look, which had Kyoya rolling his eyes. "Yes, Tamaki, I had breakfast. It would've been hard to skip with Ranka-san practically force-feeding me. According to him, I'm far too skinny-"

"You are."

"-And need to be eating more." Kyoya finished, with a tired huff.

"You're sulking because he's right." His sing-song voice raised a half-hearted glare, and a careless swipe with Kyoya's notebook, which missed by about a half mile. "You can't deny it. I bet you skipped dinner last night to work late again."

"You have no evidence to prove that."

But the guilty twitch of his eye betrayed his otherwise cool front. "Kyoya!" He whined, flopping over the boy's desk. "I thought we talked about this! You need to take more care of yourself. You're going to drop at this rate!"

With a heavy sigh, the bespectacled boy adjusted his glasses. "Is there any special reason for this interrogation?"

And now there was a warning note in _his_ voice which Tamaki knew was a sign not to push any further. Still, this was _important._ Sometimes the boy needed a little tough love. Tough love, in this instance, equated to Tamaki surgically removing Kyoya's head from his ass. God, the things he did for friendship.

"Can't I be concerned about my friend?" He asked, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

"You don't need to be."

His pout thinned into a sharp line. "Like Hell I don't. Kyoya, I'm not going to just watch you kill yourself over this."

The boy's eyes widened, head swivelling to assert that their conversation was still private. "Lower your voice, _Suoh-_ " Oh, yeah. He was mad. Just great. "I'm not an idiot. I can take care of myself."

Tamaki was so, so tempted to shoot back with a scathing reply. Because _clearly_ he couldn't. But the last thing Kyoya needed right now was a second fight with a friend, so he held his tongue, however hard it was to do so. After a moment, Kyoya's expression softened somewhat. Cupping his hands around the flask, he tucked it a little tighter to his chest. A precautionary measure in case Tamaki tried to snatch it from him, as he had done several times before, with varying degrees of success.

"You can relax, it's not going anywhere." He mumbled, chin resting on his palm.

His friend cocked his head to the side, somewhat confused. "What?"

"I said it's not going anywhere."

Kyoya's brows furrowed in exasperation. Setting his flask down, he took him by the wrist to move his arm away. "Tamaki, I can't hear you when you've got your hand over your mouth like that."

The boy offered a sheepish smile. "I'm not going to take your coffee. You really do look like you need it today."

Kyoya searched his face for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then he let him go, breath exhaling in a deep sigh. "I can't tell whether that's an insult or not."

His smile took on a teasing lilt. "I prefer not to comment."

"Ass."

Tamaki allowed the harmless swipe to connect with his shoulder, chuckling softly. With pride, he noted the light had returned to the bespectacled boy, too pale-cheeks fading into a healthier parlour, and the deep crease between his brows had become less pronounced. His coffee, too, remained forgotten at his side while he busied himself with organising his notes to begin the day, shuffling paper with expert ease.

Maybe, he thought, his super power was the power of annoying people so much that they did what he wanted?

A finger prodded his forehead. "Quit staring at me with that weird expression. It's not flattering at all."

Tamaki pouted. "I wasn't staring."

"I think maybe you need to consult a dictionary some time." While Kyoya nonchalantly corrected his notes, Tamaki sank into his crossed arms with a childish huff. "Oh, do quit those puppy eyes. Whatever it is you want, would you at least give me the illusion of a choice?"

"Who says I wanted anything?" He replied, with a bit of a whine to his voice.

"You've been acting weird ever since you arrived. Just spit it out already."

At his silence, Kyoya cocked an eyebrow, and Tamaki's pout transformed into a sheepish smile. "Fine, I'll cut to the chase. You've been hogging our daughter all to yourself these past couple of weeks, it's my turn to have some quality father-daughter bonding time with Haruhi. I've already sorted everything out, so you don't need to worry. I'm going to escort her back to her apartment today in one of our more modest cars, and we can have fun there until her father comes home. What do you say?"

From where they had been widened during Tamaki's declaration, steel orbs narrowed. Kyoya took a couple of seconds to digest these words, lips pursed tightly in thought. "Have you talked this through with Haruhi?" He queried, with a false air of calm.

The blond shrugged. "Not yet. I wanted to make sure you were aware of it first."

"I suppose the decision is up to her."

Despite his even tone, Kyoya was clearly more bothered than he let on. Still, he didn't protest, and in the end Tamaki wasn't quite sure whether or not he was relieved by that.

Haruhi, for the most part, just rolled with it. Whether it was a testament to how tired she was, or whether she was just relieved at the fact that she wouldn't have to endure another awkward couple of hours with Kyoya, he couldn't tell. But when the time came for them all to head on home, Haruhi had followed an oblivious Kyoya half the distance towards his car before she realised what she was doing and swerved right on back round, glaring when Tamaki struggled to contain his laughter.

He was actually a little nervous, wondering what they could possibly do to kill all those hours until Ranka arrived.

He needn't have worried, though.

They ended up popping popcorn in Haruhi's microwave, and lying out across the spare futon, occasionally throwing up a piece to catch in their mouths. (Tamaki was a lot better at it than she was. Hers mostly ended up bouncing off her forehead, much to her ire).

Exhibit A, Haruhi tossed up another piece, which ended up landing in _his_ mouth. "You're terrible at this."

"I meant to do that." She argued, but her annoyed pout suggested otherwise.

"Now, now, Haruhi. It's okay to admit when you're wrong."

The strained silence hit him like a two tonne truck. Haruhi's already airborne popcorn hit him directly on the nose, but he barely noticed it. He could almost hear the crickets chirping in the background, and briefly thought how appropriate a tumbleweed would have been right about then. Chewing on his bottom lip, Tamaki slowly flipped to face was staring determinedly up at the ceiling, arms wrapped tightly around her slight frame, the popcorn bowl resting forgotten between them.

Somewhere in the apartment, a tap was dripping, and through the open window he could hear the bustle of the street below.

Picking at his cuticles, Tamaki tried to figure out what to say. _Anything_ would've been better than that total nothingness.

"Say, Tamaki-senpai… do you think I was wrong?"

The unexpected words left him floundering for a moment, surprise overwriting all his basic functions. "I think," He began, hesitantly. "I think it's more complicated than that."

She sighed, the futon dipping slightly as she shifted onto her side, doe eyes meeting his. "I figured you'd say something like that."

"Yet you asked anyway," He replied, not unkindly. "Perhaps you wanted to hear those words all along?" That rose a small, wan smile from the girl. He echoed one, far brighter, and gently took her hand. "Haruhi, the way I see it, nothing is ever that black and white. So labelling either of your actions as right or wrong in itself wouldn't be right."

She considered that with a tilt of her head. "I can see where you're coming from."

He scanned her features, noting with fondness the way her nose wrinkled in concentration as she aimed another piece of popcorn. She managed to catch this one- just barely- and grinned triumphantly. "I suppose the real question is; do _you_ think you were wrong?"

To preface this, when he woke up that morning, Tamaki never expected he'd have to practically Heimlich the girl, saving her from a rather unfortunate demise. Death-By-Popcorn wasn't exactly the best way to go. It certainly earned points for comedic effect, though.

Once she recovered from her short choking fit, she shot him a _very_ disgruntled look, eyes watering. "I hate you..." A cough. " _So_ much right now."

"I didn't expect you to choke!" He exclaimed, more than a little frazzled. "Are you alright? Are you dying? Oh god, you're dying! I killed my only daughter, how could I? I'm an awful human being!"

"I'm _fine._ You don't need to call an ambulance." She pulled his phone from his hand, and then cocked her head to the side. "Or a hearse. The point is, you're being dramatic. Take a couple of deep breaths, and calm down. Understood?"

It was as if she'd flipped a switch. One moment he was panicking, the next he was cool as ice, suavely sweeping his hair back and flashing her a winning smile. "I'm perfectly calm, Haruhi. A picture-perfect example of serenity, if I do say so myself. Why, if you were to look up 'peaceful' in the dictionary, you'd find my picture."

"More like _obnoxious._ " She muttered, with good humour.

He clutched his heart, keeling over in an act that was all playfulness. "You wound me, dearest maiden!"

She was smiling, and for one glorious moment Tamaki thought that everything was okay again. But then the light left her eyes, and her lips slowly curved down, brows bunching together in a harsh line. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she observed him gingerly, somewhat shamed.

"Is…" Her fingers gripped her shirt. Hard. "Is Kyoya-senpai okay?"

Tamaki's own smile dimmed as well. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he crossed his legs underneath him, gesturing for her to do the same. She copied his pose, movements dripping with uncertainty underneath his serious gaze. "I think you already know the answer to that question." She looked down, fingers playing with the threads of her shirt. "I don't think he's been okay in a long time. I don't think _either_ of you have, really."

"But?" She asked, confidence returning to her.

"How do you know I wasn't going to just leave it at that?" He replied, slyly.

A smirk worked its way onto her face which could be described as nothing but 'shit eating'. "There's always a 'but' with you. I still can't tell whether that's a blessing or a curse."

"I'm just going to ignore that complete and utter betrayal." He sniffed, with mock hurt. "As I was saying. I don't think either of you have been okay in a long time. _But_ most of that isn't down to anything the two of you have done. It's a stressful situation, so it's almost granted that you're not going to be at your best. However, you both certainly haven't been helping each other out on most fronts. That's the issue here."

"Yeah. I guess we do need to work on that."

"And soon." He agreed, seriously. "You know as well as I do that this is getting more dangerous." He nibbled on some popcorn, eyeing her with sympathy. "Look, I know you're angry, but Kyoya didn't mean to hurt you. He's exhausted, he blurted it out without thinking, and now he's beating himself up about it. He just doesn't need this right now. Hell, neither of you need some stupid fight."

Head bowed, she traced her finger across the blankets with far too much concentration. Still, even with her hair falling around her face, he could still see the pinch in her cheeks and the creases in her forehead that betrayed how deeply she was thinking. "You want me to forgive him?"

"I want you to talk to him." He corrected, softly. "Forgiving him would be nice, but that's entirely your choice."

Her response was merely a hum of acknowledgement.

Giving an amused snort, he tapped her hand to attract her gaze. "You're both too stubborn for your own good. This has dragged on long enough, okay? You can't keep waiting for him to make the first move, because he won't. When that boy puts his mind to something, not even Hell itself can stop him. And right now, he's determined to stay out of you way. God, Haruhi, that dumbass thinks you _hate_ him."

"I don't hate him." She seemed almost insulted at the idea, which Tamaki supposed was a sign of her sincerity. "I _never_ said I hated him."

"Then _tell_ him. I can't stand to see that kicked-puppy face any longer."

She leant back, stretching her arms out above her head. Maybe to delay answering. _Definitely_ to delay answering. "We've been hard to deal with, I know. Sorry for being such a pain. But I needed time… I don't know, to think things through. When I planned to sort this out, I wanted it to be sincere. Because he would know if it wasn't. And I would, too. And he really doesn't deserve that right now. There wouldn't be any point to it at all if I didn't mean it, right?"

"Right." He observed her curiously, thumb and forefinger resting against his chin. "Are you ready now?"

With a deep breath, she nodded. "Yeah. I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamaki is the greatest friend ever, let's be real
> 
> We all need a Tamaki in our lives. The precious sunshine child just wants everyone to stop being so goddamn emo


	14. Oh My God They Were Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruhi gets a makeover, and a much-needed conversation unfolds

"Remind me again what we're doing here." Mei deadpanned, looping her arm through Haruhi's.

"I told you, Kasanoda invited me to his game night. You better be polite, Mei. He's my friend, and he was nice enough to let you come so last minute."

While it wasn't exactly a lie, Haruhi did fail to mention that Kasanoda had originally invited her and _Kyoya._ Only (according to his rather exasperated texts) he had been roped into a charity gala being held later that evening, and had subsequently been under house arrest since the wee hours of the morning, making her meticulous planning of the day rather redundant.

(Fuyumi proved herself to be an angel that was truly heaven set when she provided pictures of a disgruntled and _very_ confused Kyoya dangling over Tachibana's shoulder after he had tried and _failed_ to leave).

It was then and there Kyoya had remembered that, despite her outwardly friendly demeanour, his sister… was kind of an asshole. Deliberately failing to mention the teeny tiny fact that _he was instructed to stay home, or be tossed around like a sack of potatoes_ was right up her alley of mischief.

With a shiver, Haruhi herself vowed to never get on her bad side.

"Yeah, yeah." Mei replied, dismissively. "I'll be good, I promise."

"You said that last time." Haruhi deadpanned, feeling herself sweatdrop. "And then you spent half the night fighting with Kyoya-senpai."

The blonde considered this for a moment, her denials fading out before she could even voice them. With a pout, she grumbled under her breath. "He started it."

Rolling her eyes goodnaturedly, Haruhi led the way into the compound, exchanging friendly waves with a few familiar faces. Purposeful steps slowed into a hesitant crawl as Haruhi realised she knew fuck all about where they were supposed to go. Luckily, it was at that point that they bumped into a rather rumpled Tetsuya.

Dirt smudged across his nose, he blinked, recognition flooding his features. "Haruhi-kun, you're here! We didn't expect you to arrive this early."

"Obviously." Nose wrinkled, Mei took in his disheveled appearance.

Unperturbed, he switched his smile to Mei, and with reluctance on her part, they shook hands, Tetsuya introducing himself in the same easy-going manner that Haruhi was accustomed to. Still, there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as Mei rubbed her palm clean on her jeans, apparently under the impression that she was being subtle.

Spoiler: she really wasn't.

"The Young Lord is in the garden. I can take you to him, if you'd like?"

"That would be great, thanks, Tetsuya." Genially, he began leading them through the maze of activity, nodding to anyone he passed. The girls followed just a step behind, heads cycling this way and that as they took in the sights. "Whoa… This place is a lot bigger than I thought. How many buildings are there?"

"A fair few." He offered, absently gesturing to a second-story house with a more western design. "Though the majority are used simply for accommodation, like this one. Many of us live here with our families, so there has to be a lot of space."

"I see." Haruhi mused, with interest. "It's pretty cool. You have your own community here."

Head tilted in thought, he allowed a small shrug. "I suppose you could call it that." Eyes brightened, he led them through a courtyard, and then behind a square of buildings, falling back on his ass as he walked smack bang into the redhead he had been attempting to locate.

Sparing a moment to quite literally lift his blushing friend to his feet and assess his condition, Kasanoda latched onto Haruhi's arm, already babbling a mile a minute as he towed her towards the garden with all the eagerness of a child on Christmas. A sulking Mei followed closely behind, with Tetsuya bringing up the rear.

It was like walking straight into a fairy tale.

Low lit by warm, cosy lanterns, the plants unfolded before her eyes, most a rich shade of orange and gold as they darkened in the Autumn air. A small breeze played with her hair, the urgent whisper carrying across the space, creating a conversation between every leaf, branch and blade of grass.

"It's still under development," Kasanoda explained, parting some tendrils as they ducked past a weathered old willow tree. (If those branches happened to slap Mei in the face, nobody really noticed… Except Tetsuya, who had to bow ahead to smother his laughter). "But I think it's looking pretty good so far."

"No kidding," She replied, suitably awed, sparing merely a moment to test her weight on the wooden bridge. "It's amazing." Kasanoda, on the other hand, showed no sign of caution, only pausing in the middle of the arc to catch the back of Tetsuya's shirt as he clambered onto the railing and leaned over a little too far for comfort.

Throwing a thankful smile back at his friend, Tetsuya discreetly pointed below, to where some koi fish were circling lazily beneath them. "The lights are working well. You can see the fish so clearly."

The pond was large, spacious, and definitely deep enough to hide a body. She'd file that away for the next time Tamaki or the twins tested her nerves. At a quick glance, it could be mistaken for being natural, but on closer inspection was a tad too artificially furnished. Lily pads adorned the surface, promising flowers when in season, while several more pond-dwelling creatures and plants alike made their home both around and inside the water, fish flitting about in the dying light.

They spent quite a while exploring, Kasanoda proudly showing off the greenhouse, and the herb garden, but mostly his own friend. Several times Kasanoda had captured the easily flustered boy as he attempted to become one with the undergrowth to escape the praise being lavished upon him for his remarkably creative insight.

Eventually they piled on a bench to take a break, huddling together for warmth, narrowing down a game to play.

Which, went just as well as expected, really.

"We're not playing Cards Against Humanity because Tetsuya always wins."

"I don't _always_ win." He protested quietly, and was startled into silence when Kasanoda swung around to face him, red hair fluttering wildly in the wind behind him.

"What would grandma find disturbing, yet strangely charming?" the redhead recited, watching with satisfaction as Tetsuya sunk behind his hands, flushing red all the way up to the tips of his ears.

"... Necrophilia."

Kasanoda's hands swept towards his friend in exasperation.

Mei nodded sagely. "I see what you mean."

Suitably embarrassed, the boy hid his face in the only available cover, (that being Kasanoda's shoulder), for the next few minutes, essentially sealing their fate when Mei decided to take over and give them all makeovers, producing a bag full of supplies from apparent thin air.

To their credit, both men didn't actually complain.

Surprising, considering the damage the Host Club had done to Kasanoda's reputation the last time he allowed someone to give him a makeover.

Settled down in a warm, cosy room, Haruhi observed the way Tetsuya coated each nail in varnish, lips pursed in a vague pout as he concentrated.

"You're good at this." She murmured, staring mournfully down at the smudges on her hands, the last traces of her failed attempt scrubbed hastily away.

Brush stilling, he glanced up, expression somewhat sheepish. Still, she could see the glow of pride in his eyes, and it brought a smile to her own face. "I like to paint," He explained, and suddenly his amazingly steady hand made a lot more sense. "Though I suppose I enjoy anything where I can be creative. There's a sitting room in the south building that's rarely used, I keep all my supplies in there. It's so easy for the hours to slip by without me noticing. Sometimes the young master will sit and watch as well, though I have a feeling it's mostly to make sure I remember to eat. In a way, this is just like painting, only with a much smaller canvas."

He gaze flickered to her nails, and then back up, hesitance creeping into his tone. "I can do yours after, if you'd like."

"That'd be great, thanks." There's no doubt Mei would scold her if she ended up being the only one without them done. Even Kasanoda was begrudgingly allowing her friend to paint his toenails a strikingly bright red.

"Pick out the colour you'd like. I'll start once mine are dry, so I don't smudge them."

She decided on what she thought was a nice nude shade. With _the_ most contemptuous, judging look she had ever seen from the boy, he tossed the trash to the side where it belonged (resolutely ignoring the loud crash from over his shoulder) and chose a lovely turquoise. Unsure whether to be insulted or amused, Haruhi meekly extended her hand and allowed him to get to work.

"What have you been doing to your hair?"

Mei's shriek petered off into an unholy screech, shaking hands gripping Kasanoda's head tightly. The boy in question was more than a little alarmed, and likely on the brink of checking whether his eardrums had exploded. "Do you even condition this? When was the last time you had it cut? It's a _mess_! I've never seen so many split ends in my life! Do you ever _bother_ to brush it?"

Without even giving him time to reply, she procured a comb to work out his knots, attacking them with such vicious force that he released a 'manly' yelp and scrambled to hide behind Haruhi and Tetsuya, the latter of which barely even glanced up.

"Do not jog me." He warned, tongue peeking out as he concentrated. Something about the air shifted, a promise of death that had both Kasanoda and Mei immediately backing down, lest they opened the figurative and possibly quite literal Pandora's Box of Tetsuya's wrath.

Still, it didn't stop Mei from lecturing the redhead for the next fifteen minutes on how to properly take care of his hair, which ended with her placidly twisting it up into an elegant, yet artfully messy bun, irritation apparently vented from her system.

After returning the favour in a less than stellar braid, which, surprisingly, she didn't immediately take out to fix, he turned to Tetsuya, the only other member with hair long enough to actually have fun styling.

And shut up, because he totally, absolutely, most definitely wasn't blushing as Kasanoda ran his fingers through browned locks, gently beginning to braid it.

"You're doing it wrong." Mei observed, with mounting impatience. "Move over, let me show you"

"Back off." He growled, using a foot to keep her a good distance away. Tetsuya- mostly tethered to his position by an unknowing Kasanoda- shrank out of the line of fire as much as possible, hoping to avoid any potentially flying objects, or fists, for that matter. "I can do it. Just sit down and let me work, goddamnit!" She did, crossing her arms over her chest with a loud huff. "And stop that muttering. It's distracting."

Haruhi distracted her with a game of Irish Snap, which quickly turned deadly with their newly manicured nails. They called it quits after Tetsuya received a deadly triple combination and a paper thin yet still smarting cut across the back of his hand, courtesy of a stray nail, sharpened to that of a knife's edge.

In the end, the boys flaunted their fabulous updos and sparkling nails without shame, and Haruhi found that she had laughed a lot more than she had in weeks.

 _God_ , she'd needed this.

This release, this _escape_ from all the chaos in her fucked-up life. Even if it had been for a mere couple of hours, she'd finally been given the chance to be _normal._ To be the teenager she actually was. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to feel truly free. To laugh, and joke, and to simply _exist_ for the sheer sake of existing.

Those hours, few as they may be, had allowed her to shed the shawl of fear and anxiety she'd carried on stiff, tired shoulders. It halted the nervous backwards glances and twitching leg altogether, and the twisting ball in her stomach had settled into soft tranquility.

For the first time in a while, she felt _whole._

Upon returning home, she wordlessly stepped into her father's arms and let time slip by. He was more than happy to oblige, holding her in one of his signature, tender bear hugs, that was all hair and cologne and _safety._ Taking comfort in the warmth, she thanked every deity she knew (and a few she made up on the spot) for letting her have such wonderful people in her life, and thanked that god-awful vase for triggering a whole new wave of experiences, good and bad.

Contentment seeping into her very soul, she ate the (miraculously edible) dinner her father had managed to whip up in her absence.

But all too soon that moment of peace was shattered.

A key rattled in the lock.

With a loud, teeth-rattling clatter, Haruhi's cutlery fell from her hands.

_Her father was already home._

Tensing, Haruhi scrambled to grab the nearest object that could potentially cause a lot of harm, and straightened up with a thermos flask clasped in her hand. It wasn't necessarily the best choice, but… Yeah, but nothing. The fallout of _that_ situation would result in her being well and truly stabbed, with Takeda laughing at her piece of crap weapon.

The handle turned.

Her heart stopped.

Then a familiar head of black hair met her eyes as Kyoya ducked in through the door, quietly removing his shoes and setting them aside.

"Oh." She said, eyeing him up and down, the wariness leaving her features. "It's just you."

Surprised, he glanced over, venturing further into the apartment only after she'd discarded the projectile appropriately, lest she decided it really was better off smashing his skull in.

"Just me," He confirmed evenly, craning his head around to catch a glimpse of the redhead."Did your father not tell you I was coming?"

Considering Haruhi and been 210 percent prepared to take his head off less than ten seconds ago, she was pretty sure they both knew the answer to that question. "What do you think?"

They dissolved into a tense silence. Kyoya distracted himself by loosening his tie, and Haruhi pretended to be utterly engrossed with her food, when in reality she was watching him. The smoothness of his movements, how deftly he turned his keys over in his hand before pocketing them.

The way he insistently avoided eye contact with her.

"You look nice."

She wasn't really sure why she said it.

Maybe it was because Tamaki's words were ringing in her ears once again, as they had been for quite a while, repeating like a broken record, and standing as a harsh reminder of all that they risked losing. Or maybe it was because Kyoya was _still_ killing time, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows for no reason other than to delay more strained interactions- and she just wanted him to _Look. At. Her._

Lately he acted as though even catching her gaze was a crime.

There was a lot of things Haruhi could handle, and _that_ certainly wasn't one of them. Neither was the way that boy glanced up, lips pursed in a way that was both confused and slightly alarmed at the same time.

 _Nice_ was an understatement, and they both knew it. Kyoya was dressed to the nines in a three piece suit, hair combed neatly, far from the tousled mess she'd become accustomed to. Still, even if she had to squint to see it, she was almost certain he brightened up a little, features hardened with hesitance blurring into something much softer.

"Thank you."

This was fine.

It was a start, at least. Now all she had to do was converse like a normal human being. Sounds easy enough. "Your party… gala... event thing. Was it good?" Nailed it.

His hint of suspicion was replaced by surprise. Guard lowering somewhat, his air of stiff politeness relaxed into one of familiar ease. "Good wouldn't exactly be the right word to describe it." He smothered a tired yawn, absently wiping the moisture from his eyes. Damn him, that suit really did bring out the colour in them. "Exhausting, more like."

Interest piqued, she cocked her head. "I thought you liked them?"

"Far from it." His nose was all wrinkled up, displeasure clearly evident. "Ammatuer events like those are, for lack of a better term, a glorified dick measuring contest for wannabes with too much time of their hands, and more wealth than they know what to do with." He dragged a lazy hand through his hair. "I suppose the one silver lining is that they do allow an opportunity for possible business ventures. Aside from that, I find them rather pointless."

"Then why do you go? It seems to me like it's more trouble than it's worth."

"Naturally to keep up appearances."

Frowning, she mulled this over, a little scowl rising on her face when she noticed his amusement. Eventually, she sighed, flashing him a small, resigned smile. "I don't think I'm ever going to get you."

Finally taking a seat opposite her, he flicked his eyebrows up in challenge. "Likewise." In the silence that descended, he rolled out his back, body arching as he stretched up as high as he could go, only relaxing after a satisfying click. Blinking, he met her gaze questioningly, and she belatedly realised she'd be staring.

Looking away, he stumbled along the first line of topic he could think of. "How was Kasanoda's?"

"It was awesome!" She enthused, feeling the joy swell in her chest once more. "You should've seen the garden- it was so beautiful. It'll look even better once all the flowers are in bloom. Kasanoda was so proud of it, I was honestly really impressed with how well it turned out."

Chin propped up on his palm, his eyes misted over with something akin to fondness. "Is that so?"

"And get this- they've got all kinds of herbs and fruit growing in the greenhouse- Kasanoda promised to give me some once they're ready. Fresh fruit always tastes the best, you know?"

Kyoya was staring at her quizzically, likely pondering whether or not it was worthwhile mentioning how easily he could supply the selfsame thing. Those rich bastards wouldn't hesitate to bury her in riches if she gave them the chance. Still, tapping her finger against her chin, she considered him thoughtfully. Then, with a decisive nod of her head, she continued. "But, knowing you, I think you'd probably like the koi pond the most. There's a little wooden bridge that arcs over the water, and it's all lit up by lanterns. It's also a bit more secluded, so it'd be perfect for you and your brooding."

"I don't brood," He protested, light-heartedly. "I _contemplate._ "

She arched a brow, but her returning jab was drowned out by Ranka's sharp squeal. The redheaded man swept out of his room no less energetic than usual, his long hair rumpled from sleep. "Kyoya-kun, look at you! You look positively dashing in that suit, I'm so proud! Haruhi, we must take pictures at once to commemorate this occasion!"

With an indulgent smile, Kyoya allowed the older man to link their arms together, hands resting in his trouser pockets, obediently remaining still for the photo. Or, well, _photos_. Haruhi herself wasn't even _trying_ to hide how much she was rolling her eyes, while only made him smile harder.

Ranka cycled through a couple of poses, before throwing out an energetic peace sign. He beamed over at the boy, but his grin wilted into a childish pout when he noticed his companion's lack of enthusiasm. "Kyoya-kun, come on."

Kyoya would later claim that he'd tried to resist… and it would be a fatass lie. All it took was that single pout for Kyoya to resign to his fate, and throw up a weary peace sign of his own, lips quirking when Haruhi snorted into the back of her hand. Eventually she was dragged into the chaos as well, and they ended up trying to squish into a selfie, which was considerably more difficult to execute than it was entitled to be, owing to the fact that Haruhi was rather vertically challenged.

"Hm, Haruhi appears to be missing half of her head in these photos." Kyoya, ever the observant one, deadpanned, as Ranka flipped through his gallery.

"Yes, that is quite a problem." Her father agreed, with a serious nod of his head. "Why are you so short, Haruhi?"

She could most definitely feel the throb of a vein at her temple. "I'm sorry if my height inconveniences you."

"No matter, we will make this work!"

And… somehow, they did. (That _somehow_ being that Haruhi was press ganged into standing on the table, leaving her about level with Kyoya's shoulder, and at perfect selfie height).

After a few more minutes of gushing and squeeing, Ranka returned to bed, leaving two considerably more exhausted teens in his wake.

Picking up the dishes, Haruhi decided that a moment was in order to resolve her nerves. "I'm going to go wash these. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone. And if you're going to stay over, you'll be able to set up the futon, right? If not, I'll help you once I'm done."

"I'll do it." He interrupted, gently taking them from her hands, and disappearing into the kitchen despite her protests. After a beat, he poked his head back out, eyes narrowed into a glare that held no heat. "Don't even think about touching that futon." With that vaguely ominous threat, she was left to her own musings.

Unfortunately for her, his actions had merely left her with more to mull over.

Now was as good as any to talk with him.

Ignoring the slightly rocky areas, the stormy atmosphere was beginning to clear up. From where he had been distant, bordering on cold, he was smiling once again- warmth returning to his features.

Yes. It was certainly time to put everything behind them.

From the next room, a loud cacophony of noise sounded, intermingled with Kyoya's fervent cursing. Concerned, she threw the door open to find him standing in a war zone, glass and the remnants of a ceramic plate littering the floor around his feet.

From where he had been surveying the damage with wide eyes, his body tensed, guilty gaze flickering up from the mess, to her, in all her stunned glory. "I can fix it."

Finally regaining the power of movement, Haruhi leant against the doorframe, arms crossed. There was a twinge of amusement slipping through her otherwise cool façade. "How exactly do you expect to do that? It's completely smashed, senpai."

"I can fix it." He insisted, but even he knew his confidence was wavering.

"Don't move." She warned, clambering onto the counter and crawling along the length of the room in a way that was far too casual for this to be the first time. Evidently trying to give him a heart attack, she hung over the edge and pulled a cabinet door open, retrieving a dustpan and brush, before rising once more- far less gracefully and with a fair amount of flailing.

Most likely, he was wondering whether or not she'd throw something at him if he laughed.

Gingerly, she slid off the counter, the pads of her feet making no sound as they touched the floor. Sneaking a peek up at him, an audible sigh escaped her lips. Why did he have that kicked-puppy look perfected? That was an underhanded trick she expected from Tamaki, not _him._ Although she had a vague suspicion that it wasn't even deliberate. "It's fine, senpai. It was an accident. We're not so poor that we can't replace a couple of plates, you know."

He nodded, but didn't speak, and she had the impression that it would be rather hard to around the lump in his throat. Still, he'd trapped himself in this cage of broken things- it allowed the perfect opportunity to finally speak to him. As with everything, all her rehearsed lines immediately danced to the farthest corners of her memory, leaving her floundering quite helplessly for something to say.

"I'm sorry."

That… wasn't her.

Her head snapped up, and Kyoya was steadily meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry," He repeated, sincerely.

"Shut up." She didn't raise her voice, but even then it was like whiplash. Hurt flashed across his face, and for a moment he was unguarded and so, so vulnerable. And then the walls snapped back in place and he retreated behind an air of indifference. "Don't steal the spotlight from me, I've been rehearsing this way too long for you to steal my thunder."

Confusion crept in, displayed in the twitch of his mouth, and crease between his brows. Eyes blazing, she met him fearlessly. " _I'm_ sorry." Almost immediately he was opening his mouth to interject, but she hushed him with a surprising sharpness, sweeping at the shards more vigorously. "Don't, senpai. Asking you to keep it a secret like I did put too much pressure on you, and that wasn't fair of me. I just didn't want people to get hurt because of me, but that ended up happening anyway."

Sheepish, her hand reached up to scratch the back of her neck. "I guess I kinda messed up there, huh?"

"That wasn't your fault."

Ah. So he did know what she meant.

"It wasn't yours either." Haruhi replied, kindly. "I admit I may have reacted badly when you finally started telling me… well, telling _us_ the whole truth. And it was smart to get the others involved, so you did the right thing there. But senpai, you're not protecting me by hiding how much danger I'm in, you know that, right?" A short nod. He didn't trust himself to speak. "Look, I never expected or wanted you to take everything on by yourself. I'm just asking for you to rely on me. And I know that's hard for you, Tamaki-senpai said you grew up in an environment where that wasn't possible, but I'm _right here_. I can help, if you'd let me."

He worked his way around the tightness in his throat, the calm façade cracking just a bit. "What else did Tamaki say?"

"That you floored him the other day. He came up too suddenly from behind, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground with your knee in his back." There was a hitch in his breathing that she pretended not to notice. Brush stilling, she tipped her head up towards him, sternly. "It's alright to still be shaken up. You were _assaulted,_ for god's sake, and… maybe more. I know you haven't told us everything, so know that I'll always listen if you ever need to. You've have _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

A wan smile tugged at his lips, full of self-deprecation. "I was a naïve little _child_ , Haruhi. I actually managed to kid myself into believing a couple of months of self-defence would be enough, and got a face full of wall for my trouble."

She could hear it, in the way his eyes couldn't settle on her. The clench of his fists, and tightness of his jaw.

_If I can't protect myself, how can I hope to protect you?_

"We'll figure it out." She assured, with confidence she was unaware that she possessed. Yet it felt so natural, so _right._ "We always do. Hopefully this time, we'll do it together?"

Brushing the last bit of glass into the dustpan, she straightened up, and caught the tail end of Kyoya's smile. "Together?" She could have been mistaken, but she was almost certain there was something akin to fondness in his eyes. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two nerds will be the death of me some day, I swear
> 
> And Kyoya is totally loving her nails


	15. Don’t Read This: (Spoiler, He Did)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dreaded letter arrives, and changes everything

As per their usual routine, Kyoya entered the apartment via his spare key, their mail clutched in his numb fingers, having stopped by to collect it on his way up.

Despite whatever vehement protests he would muster against such a thing, she couldn't help but find it nice how genuine he'd started allowing himself to be. The Fujioka apartment was a pocket of space suspended between two realities, a safe zone where his restrictions and rules apparently didn't apply. Each passing day chipped away a little more at those not-so-perfectly constructed walls, allowing just a fraction more of Kyoya's true self to surface.

Through madness and rain and a little sun, he'd stumbled across a ragtag, rather unconventional family who, regardless of any misinformed fears, weren't just around whenever it was convenient for them. And maybe, tucked in the safety of the deepest, darkest corner of himself, he could admit that he liked it.

After all, he deserved much more than a family who acted like they were extras in the story of his life.

Luckily for him, the Fujioka's were more than willing to provide.

A bustle of activity greeted him, and he barely got a word in edgeways before Ranka dropped a kiss down on her forehead (and squished her in a tight hug for good measure). Blowing an air kiss over at Kyoya (who caught it with little indulgent smile, and tapped it over his heart), the man blitzed out with all the abundant energy of a hyperactive five year old, leaving both daughter and adopted tol son momentarily windswept.

Still, they recovered quickly, trading little grins as they continued on as normal.

Haruhi pushed a plate at him, and Kyoya obediently ate (still absently flipping through the mail and sorting it into neat piles), while she disappeared off to change.

It happened in the small window of time in which she had left him.

 _It_ being her fumbling to pull her sock on, losing her balance, and falling backwards. Her head greeted the nearby chair quite nicely, the resounding thump probably audible in China. Only… Kyoya didn't react. She couldn't even sense the classic electricity of his _I-Am-So-Done-With-This-Disaster_ eyeroll.

"Don't tell me you choked." Quite accustomed to carrying conversations from other rooms, Haruhi absently straightened out her uniform, righting the dreaded sock with added force. "I swear to god, after those devil twins made Tamaki-senpai spit food everywhere, I've made a new policy. You make a mess, you clean it up. No exceptions."

No response. She couldn't hear even a hint of the low, hastily stifled chuckle of amusement she'd been expecting.

Was it strange? Yes.

Was it _unsettling_?

Yes.

Yes, it most definitely the fuck _was_.

Brows furrowed intensely, she poked her head around the door to investigate.

Kyoya was staring down at a letter in his hands in a way that couldn't be described as anything less than pure, undisguised _horror_.

Haruhi felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "... Senpai?"

It took a slow, agonising second for him to register her voice. And, honestly, as he met her gaze, she wasn't really sure whether she was grateful or not. Grey orbs, usually so calm and cool and focused, were wide, somewhat bloodshot, pupils dilated in a thinly veiled Fight-or-Flight response.

Shit, yeah. She felt so nervous she was already on the verge of parting with her breakfast in the nearest bin.

"What is it?" It came out more like an order than a question, with a shake to her words that she cursed herself for. "You're freaking me out. What's wrong?"

He forced himself to swallow down the lump in his throat, Adam's apple noticeably bobbing. A deep breath, and then he smoothed out the letter on the table, and Haruhi found herself creeping closer despite all instincts screaming at her to run. The words blurred together somewhat, but she could make out her address. And one horrible, soul-destroying name.

_Naomi._

Her stomach dropped painfully. She felt as though she'd jolted from a particularly bad nightmare, only this was very real and infinitely more likely to cause her real, possibly permanent harm. "Oh." She heard herself say, all distant and distorted. "That isn't ideal."

Trembling legs struggled to keep her standing. Haruhi sat heavily before they could Bambi out from underneath her, at least retaining some dignity in the slightly more graceful descent. Kyoya's own hands were shaking. He'd stuffed them in his pockets rather quickly, but she'd seen them, and that was a sight she could never unsee.

Then, in a second so subtle she almost missed it, his expression morphed into one of true neutrality, perfected over the course of many years. A true poker face, one crafted through blood and tears, meticulously hammered into shape until it was fake beyond perfection, but _strong_. Once again, he'd gathered his emotions and locked them up tight- banishing them into a dark crevice somewhere so deep inside his heart she wasn't even sure he knew where it was.

"Do you want me to read it?" He asked, steadily.

Part of her wanted to refuse. To snatch up the letter herself and get it over and done with. But her limbs weighed down on her like lead, and even the simple act of nodding was difficult.

She fought past the cotton-wool feel inside her head, forcing herself to focus on Kyoya as he pried it open, lips thinned out into a sharp line.

He read it through once. And then a second time, much more slowly. Upon reaching the end, he appeared to be considering a third read, before Haruhi set a gentle hand on his arm and pushed it down, allowing hazy grey eyes to protrude over the top.

He bit his lip- a bad habit she'd noticed him picking up from her, and set the letter down on the table. Face twisted up in a manner that was almost constipated, he visibly fought against the urge to snatch it up and shove it in the nearest shredder. As if disposing of the evidence would somehow protect her from the singular glaring fact that _Takeda knew where she lived._

Still, she cocked her head, and steeled her nerves, jutting her chin out with more confidence than she felt. "How bad is it?"

He smiled. It was a wry sort of thing, strained at the ends, and twitching downwards, a twisted imitation of the kind of funny smile adults employed when they didn't want kids to worry. She would've felt insulted, if it wasn't glaringly obvious that Kyoya was barely containing a grimace. Likely it was a complete accident, and his dumb ass hadn't even noticed the offence.

"Just the usual levels of crazy, I'm afraid."

Her eyes brightened a tad at his attempt of humour. She raised some of her own, hoping to alleviate his own tension. "How disappointing. I was expecting a least a little more effort on his part. What a let down."

"It's truly a shame."

The next half an hour was a whirlwind of activity, most of which Kyoya spent glued to his phone, dictating everything with frenzied precision.

Haruhi had two suitcases packed at her feet, one for her father, the other for her. The straps on her rucksack were at risk from snapping under all the weight of her notes and textbooks. Barely even glancing over at her, Kyoya swapped it for his sleek, Ouran-issued school bag, and although she scowled, she had to admit it was far lighter than her own.

A loud banging at the door has Kyoya shifting automatically into a defensive stance, and any doubts she may have previously held about his alleged self-defence training were promptly suplexed out of the nearest window. Kyoya came across as cold, and indifferent, with a sharp tongue perfectly capable of delivering on any threats he may make, and while he certainly was kinder and more thoughtful than he let others believe, never before had such raw power rippled from him.

Head cocked to the side, he listened intently to the pattern of knocks, before relaxing. "That was the all-clear signal. They must not have found anything." The arm he'd used to scoop her behind him dropped down, where he was able to snag one of the suitcases and start carrying it towards the entrance.

A thought evidently occurred to him, for he arched his head back towards her, and looked her slowly up and down. "Have you got everything you think you might need? It's not safe for the two of us to return here, remember."

"Yeah, I'm think so. You told my dad, right?"

"I did. Once Ranka's shift has ended, Hotta will personally escort him to my residence." _Residence_. Not home. Haruhi was left to wonder whether he even noticed how detached it sounded. "Your rooms should be prepared by the time we arrive."

They were already late for school.

Tamaki had blown up their phones with a frenzy of panicked calls and texts. Haruhi had five missed calls for Hikaru, while Kyoya had six. Even Honey had spared a couple of worried texts, while Kyoya sported a singular, somewhat threatening **"Call me."** from Mori. Most went ignored, save for Kyoya's barely reassuring replies of "We're both fine, something came up, stop being a pest".

Evidently somewhere along the long, _agonising_ list of calls Kyoya was forced to make, he had informed the Chairman of their… _complications_. For when they finally rocked up to school more than an hour late ("Goddamn traffic," A very irked Kyoya grumbled under his breath), their teachers barely batted an eyelid.

Over lunch, the bespectacled boy regaled the story of Tamaki's unexpected transformation into an Oscar winning actor, faking a sudden bout of illness in order to get himself and Kyoya excused from class, at which point he was able to freely and easily interrogate the boy, and like the tool he was, Kyoya folded within seconds.

For the sake of what little sanity she had remaining, Hikaru and Kaoru actually managed to restrain themselves somewhat during class, only occasionally shooting her the stink eye. Their pouting lasted up until they could duck out of earshot, at which point Haruhi could safely promise to reveal all in the clubroom, away from prying eyes.

Even then, the worry only mounted, until the air was thick and heavy with tension. Kyoya couldn't help but check his phone every two seconds, and to the displeasure of both her _and_ Tamaki, could only stomach a few measly bites of his fancy-ass meal before pushing it away.

Since he honestly did look rather sick, with a pale offsent to his skin that was somewhat alarming, she didn't raise any protests, lest he emptied his guts right there and then. From Tamaki's pursed lips, it was obvious he was also struggling internally, but eventually he let it slide without a big fuss.

The end of the day couldn't come fast enough.

The lessons seemed to blur together in a jumble of disconcernable colours and sounds. In what was clearly some divine intervention, Hikaru and Kaoru were actually making a conscious effort to pay attention, and were dutifully taking notes that were no doubt messy and imprecise, but thoughtful nonetheless. In a daze, she didn't protest to them subtly slipping said notes into her bag, or practically leading her by the arms to Music Room #3 at the end of the day.

Sharp voices emanated from inside, and hastily broke off as the doors were thrown open in the wake of the twin's hurricane level entrance. Tamaki threw a mutinous glare in Kyoya's direction, which the boy artfully ignored. Feet propped up on his chair, head tipped up to the ceiling, he looked utterly drained.

Even then, when the demonic screeching of his phone began (ringtone courtesy of the Hitachiin twins, sporting shit-eating grins), he all but dived for it, and almost had to physically beat three nosy little shits away so he could safely escape the room to answer it.

Haruhi, Mori and Honey wisely decided that they rather liked having all their limbs attached to their body, and gave the group a wide berth.

The three of them jostled at the keyhole, and after a short and rather vicious decider of rock-paper-scissors, Kaoru ended up with his ear pressed against it, while the other two peered through the crack under the door.

"Should we do something about that?" Haruhi asked, sweatdropping.

Honey considered it for a long moment, before beaming. "Nope! Want some cake, Haru-chan? It's lime!"

Five minutes later they were treated to the sight of Hikaru, Kaoru and Tamaki all taking a critical hit to the head as the door swung open and a very confused Kyoya returned. "What was that noise?"

Palm slapped to her forehead, Haruhi pointed at the terrible trios comatose bodies with resignation. He stared at said bodies for approximately three seconds in inordinate disappointment, before stepping over Tamaki's prone legs and taking a seat on Honey's other side, nursing a warm cup of tea.

A hand dropped down on his shoulder in tandem with a terrified screech from a newly awakened Tamaki. Mildly, Kyoya returned his cup to its designated saucer, and placed them both back onto the table. "Nekozawa-senpai, you do realise there are far less ghoulish ways to attract my attention?"

"A dark curse has fallen onto the Host Club." He warned, ominously. "You are all in grave danger, especially," A trembling hand pointed directly at Haruhi. " _You_."

She blinked back, unperturbed.

Tamaki had retreated behind the couch, shaking wildly with fear.

Suddenly, a beam of light hit him directly in the centre of his face. Releasing an unholy scream that shattered her eardrums, the cloaked boy retreated immediately at a speed that would make even an Olympic sprinter jealous, slamming a familiar black door shut behind him.

Smirking, Hikaru lowered his flashlight, his brother leaning a casual arm on his shoulder. "That never gets old."

With a roll of his eyes, Kyoya angled his head back. "You can come out now, Tamaki."

Blue eyes peered out from behind his cover, before he emerged completely. Suave and smooth and perfectly calm, he approached and took the last remaining seat, as though he had not been cowering underneath a table barely three seconds ago.

Now that they were all present and accounted for, Kyoya explained the situation, which went about as well as expected. Tamaki- likely having already expended his worry the first time around- merely sat with his head in his arms, unfathomable sadness hanging over him like a cloud.

Hikaru and Kaoru sobered up within the first minute. They sat with their shoulders touching, hands linked, Kaoru with his lips pursed tight, Hikaru with a harsh bunch to his eyebrows, but otherwise completely identical in their horror and disgust.

A sombre Honey was truly a soul-crushing sight. He sat attentive, Usa-chan on his lap, but not a trace of his usual cheer in place. Mori was no better. Wound up like a string, all righteous fury, his jaw appeared to be on the verge of breaking from how tightly he was clenching it.

Evidently, the gravity of the situation had just begun to dawn on them all. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they were all just kids. Despite their desired maturity, there was youthful naivety there- the kind that stubbornly refused to believe that anything bad could possibly happen to _them_. Because acknowledging that what they were facing was serious, and actually believing that self same thing with every fibre of their body were two completely different things. Deep down, they were all just denying the truth.

Being forced to confront that fact was akin to plunging into icy water. It left them breathless, senses shocked with the cold, brain struggling to process anything beyond the sea of unhelpful thoughts.

There wasn't really much that could be done.

Tamaki suggested to alternate houses. The twins then excitedly suggested sleepovers, and the three ran with the idea, electively deciding that they were all staying over at Tamaki's mansion the next day, whatever anyone else said be damned.

As they began to leave, a host wide group hug commenced around a resigned Haruhi. Kyoya sensed freedom for a few tantalising seconds of pure paradise, before Kaoru hooked an arm around his neck, and tugged him right into the centre. Kyoya continued to glare at him even when they broke off to head home.

"Oh, you're so screwed." Hikaru whispered, around a laugh.

Kaoru shrugged. "Worth it."

In the safety of the car, Kyoya finally handed over the letter once again. "Tamaki didn't think I should give this to you. Since I value my life, I disagreed. Read it, if you'd like."

She turned it over in her hands a couple of times, before smiling. "I appreciate the consideration, Kyoya-senpai, but I'm pretty sure that neither of us really wants me to read it." The sheepish quirk to his lips was answer enough. "Burning it seems like a good alternative, though."

"That can be arranged." He assured, glasses glinting maliciously.

Tachibana shot them an alarmed look in the rear view mirror.

He was also the one that provided them with a lighter.

Letter-burning complete, they headed inside, and even though this was not the first time Haruhi had visited, she was still swept away by it all. The house (more of a mansion, really) was massive, with sweeping staircases and elegant windows that spilled light into the room. Sleek and modern and clean, bit was perfect, except it lacked even the slightest hint of _life._ It felt cold, and maybe that was why Kyoya seemed to hate it so much.

She was drawn from her thoughts as they were greeted by the she-devil herself. Winding around Haruhi's legs, Noel purred loudly. The girl immediately crouched down and began fussing over her, cooing gently. "She's gotten bigger since I last saw her." When Kyoya didn't respond, she glanced up to seem him frowning down at them. "What?"

"Stop stealing the love of my pets." He scooped the kitten into his arms, smiling softly when she nuzzled against his cheek. "That's more like it."

"Spoilsport." Haruhi complained. She could have _almost_ sworn he stuck his tongue out at her as they traversed down one of the many corridors in his maze of a house.

Along the way, they stumbled across his father, who had evidently been waiting for them. Haruhi immediately bowed low, respectful and polite as ever. "Ootori-san, I really appreciate you allowing my father and I to stay here. We promise not to cause trouble. Thank you for your generosity."

He waved her words away, genially. "You are a dear friend of Kyoya's, we will see to it to aid you in any way we can. Until this situation is resolved, both you and your father are free to remain here. I am, however, deeply regretful that such drastic measures were needed in the first place." He fixed his son with a stern gaze. "I'm sure this all could have been avoided, if it weren't for my son's stubbornness."

Kyoya bowed his head and said nothing, Noel shifting in his arms. Her reaction could be summed up perfectly in three words. Oh _hell no._ Lifting her head up high, she met the man head on. "With all due respect, Ootori-san, Kyoya-senpai isn't to blame. _I_ was the one that forced him to keep it a secret, against his advice."

"Be that as it may, Haruhi-chan, Kyoya is old enough to know that it is better to break such a promise if it endangers the lives of his friends."

Indignation flaring up, Haruhi was forced to swallow her protests when Kyoya placed a placating hand on her shoulder. Giving a stiff, awkward bow in his father's direction, Kyoya straightened up. "Apologies for the interruption, but we must be going. If you'd excuse us, I need to show Haruhi to her room."

With that, he strode purposely away, expecting her to follow along behind him.

She didn't.

Frowning, Haruhi clocked the great Yoshio Ootori for a long moment. "Not to intrude, but if you want him to open up to you more, rebuking him like that isn't the way to do it."

"Haruhi-chan, you've found yourself on a very exclusive list of people that my son cares about. When those people are threatened, you'll find that boy doesn't see any sense at all. Decisions made without proper consideration, especially by those with power, can be fatal."

She considered this with a polite nod, and raised a point of her own. "He's smarter than you give him credit for."

Distantly, she registered the sound of approaching footsteps. Kyoya had doubled back, apparently only just noticing her absence. She bowed, before following after the boy, leaving an intrigued Ootori in her wake.

Tucked in the safety of his room, the hours melted away. As the last rays of light were fading, Haruhi stretched, and leant curiously over Kyoya's shoulder. He had been hunched over his laptop for a while, quietly contemplative. A young girl stared back at her, around her age, maybe a little younger. "Who's that?"

Angling his head to the side, his lips tugged into a sad smile. "Naomi-san."

"Takeda's wife?" Kyoya confirmed that with a small nod. "She looked so sweet."

"Her middle school photo." He informed, tapping a couple of keys. Slowly, he flipped through more photos of the dimple-cheeked girl, all the way into adulthood. "She was a software designer, did you know? That was how she met Takeda- they worked together on a project."

She settled a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We can't change the past, Kyoya-senpai."

He sighed, almost dislodging his glasses as he rubbed his eyes. "You share some similar features. Both slight and petite, slightly boyish in figure- no offence. But her lips are fuller, and the facial structure is all wrong. Similar, but I wouldn't say alike."

"You're stressing." She observed, keenly.

There was a large silence, only broken by Kyoya slowly tapping his index finger. "I don't understand." He finally said, and Haruhi knew he was more frustrated than he let on.

"I doubt anyone could figure this out with what little insight we've got." She reasoned, and to her, that logic was perfectly sound.

Kyoya, on the other hand, was still visibly pissed off.

"Hey, we'll figure it out. We always do." Resigned, he sagged a little more into her touch. "Why don't we play with Noel? She's been getting crabby."

"I'd rather not get scratched, to be honest."

Haruhi tutted good-naturedly. "You only get scratched because you're a dumbass." He shot her a scandalised look. She placated him with a smile, and continued to practically flambé him. "All offence. Stop treating her like she's Antoinette, and you'll be fine. If you try to stroke a cat when they're in a playful mood, you're just asking to get a swipe." Pouting, he grabbed a nearby stuffed animal, which Haruhi smacked from his hand. "Use. The. Rope. Toy. Need I remind you that she's a _kitten_ and has terrible coordination."

"When did you get so bossy?" Despite his complaint, he retrieved the suggested toy anyway.

"When you started being an idiot."

Laughing, they watched the kitten jump and dive around with reckless abandon. Leaning heavily into one another, they wished that life could just pause. All they wanted was a brief moment to just been teenagers. To be _normal_.

There, knees up and shoulders touching, they were safe.

And to them, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry
> 
> These two have a lot more suffering in store for them


	16. So Maybe I'm Not Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both just need a hug

Plush carpet lined the entirety of the hallway, dampening the noise of her footsteps, and almost swallowing her feet entirely as they sank into the soft abyss.

Giving approximately -500 shits, she flung the door open without knocking (such bad etiquette, shock horror!), and headed straight inside, reigning in her routine disbelief at how _goddamn huge_ his bedroom was, despite having seen it many times before. Her whole apartment could probably fit inside, with room to spare.

Damn rich bastard.

A distant groan sounded as light poured into the room. Lights on and curtains yanked wide open, everything was illuminated in a pale golden glow.

The upper level was a mess akin to a disaster zone. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if she were to learn a couple of bombs had detonated. Normally Kyoya was neat to a fault, this was just plain unnerving. Dodging piles of books and papers strewn haphazardly around the floor, she rolled her eyes at how Kyoya was slumped over even more books, his cheek nuzzling into the extremely comfortable pillow that was his laptop.

Noel lay curled up at the foot of the bed, thankfully nestled out of harm's way, (though it would be a cold day in Hell before Kyoya put the kitten in any danger), and was sleeping peacefully. That was, until Haruhi stepped within five foot of her, at which point she awoke and instantly demanded pettings, which the girl happily obliged.

Laptop safely moved, and kitten cradled close, Haruhi prodded the immobile figure. "Senpai, it's morning. You need to get up." It garnered no reaction. A lock of hair had fallen across his face, moving with each breath. She tucked it behind his ear, and tried again. "Senpai? Can you hear me? Wake up!"

Sharing a furtive glance with Noel, (who always looked as though she were conspiring some fantastic plot), Haruhi shrugged, and dragged her hand through his hair, from the nape of his neck upwards. What would have been a low blow had he been awake and responsive, (and likely would've resulted in an involuntary, highly scandalised flinch), elicited only a low, tired moan as he burrowed deeper into his blankets.

"Huh, I thought that would work. He really does sleep like the dead." Haruhi murmured. Noel meowed back, and the girl took that as a sign that she was equally done with her hopeless owner.

Adjusting the position of said kitten, who was beginning to get restless, she seized his shoulder and shook him. "Come on, rise and shine. This room is a mess and so are you. Don't think I didn't notice you skipping dinner last night, you must be starving."

He stirred, head lolling in a way that way _almost_ cute… before his eyes bolted open and he started kicking wildly. Tangled in the covers, he disappeared off the other side of the bed, feral expression twisting into split-second confusion as he realised he had backed up until there was no longer anything beneath him.

He hit the floor with a loud thump and a resounding groan, and for a moment, Haruhi was too stunned to do anything but stare.

"Are you okay?" She managed, once she finally untied the knot of her tongue.

"Peachy." Was the muffled reply.

She swerved around, instantly checking him over for injuries.

He was busy peeling the sheets off of him. It was hard work, they clung to his skin with all the stubbornness of a wet hair, wrapped tightly around his legs. Upon glancing up, hair flopping into his eyes, he spotted Noel, and instantly held his arms out for the kitten, softening as the warm, fuzzy space heater was transferred to him.

Which was around the point they both realised he was clad only in his boxers. Hurriedly pulling the sheets back over his lap, Haruhi could've _sworn_ his cheeks held a slight pink tinge, wounded confusion leading way into irritation. "What the Hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that you need to eat a decent meal. You've been running on coffee and those corn chips Tamaki-senpai made you try yesterday. You're going to tank at this rate."

Noel mewled in agreement, cosying up to Kyoya's side. He tickled her under the chin, anger slowly draining with each passing second. "What time is it exactly?"

"Eleven." She flashed him her phone as evidence, which did a whole lot of a good for a half-blind, glasses-less Kyoya, who promptly shot her a disgruntled look to articulate how helpful that action was. "You missed breakfast, by the way."

She couldn't blame him.

Being the only resident awake, she ate alone, and absolutely hated every moment of it.

The table was a clean, rich mahogany, and it spanned far further than was strictly necessary, serving as another stabbing reminder of their class difference. Whereas she and her father were comfortable around their beaten, scrap-heap rescued table, Kyoya's was wide and long, and with just her tucked up into one corner, it felt terribly lonely.

Being forced to eat alone so often, it was no wonder Kyoya skipped so many meals.

While it certainly wasn't healthy for him, she could understand why it held so much appeal. It was hard not to feel forgotten, unwanted, even, in chairs too big, with a table too wide for one person alone.

"I felt nauseous," His hand raked sloppily through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. "I still do. Taking a nap didn't help at all."

She levelled him with a severe look. "Don't even try to tell me you don't have medicine for that. Half your family are doctors." Kyoya gave a somewhat petulant huff, but didn't say anything. He merely gathered Noel up in his arms, a content little smile tugging up at the corners of his lips when she rubbed her little head against his cheek. "Look, I'll get you something if it's really as bad as you say, but you need to eat. You haven't had anything since at least yesterday morning."

"I had-"

"The corn chips don't count." She interrupted, seamlessly.

Framed by the sunlight pouring into the room, he looked pale and strained, and maybe even a little bit desperate. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine." She frowned, and his shoulder raised in a nonchalant shrug. "I'm sure it'll pass, I'll just eat at dinner."

"Sorry, senpai, but that's not happening. Now are you going to go get changed, or do I have to bring Tachibana in here?"

His eyes widened, scandalised. "You _wouldn't_." The whisper was laced with betrayal.

In response, her thumb hovered over the blaring green CALL button on her cell phone. She tilted her head challengingly, summoning every ounce of cockiness she possessed, (and some borrowed from the Hitachiin twins). "Do you really want to test that theory?"

He hesitated, appraising her unwavering confidence intensely. The muscles in his jaw looked set to snap from how tightly he was clenching them, mind running a mile a minute to formulate some way to gain the upper hand. Kyoya.exe apparently crashed, for his shoulders slumped forward with defeat.

"Alright, I'm coming. Wait outside, I'll be ready in a couple of minutes."

Victory well and truly earned, she waltzed towards the door with her hands tucked behind her head. "Don't even think about trying to lock me out either, I swiped your room key from a maid."

"You're such a pain!"

He exited five minutes later, hair somewhat tamed, clad in dark jeans and a soft jumper a size too big for him, a gift from Tamaki the year before. Appraising the pills she handed him as though they were something particularly unpleasant, he swallowed one dry and dumped the packet on a nearby window sill, ignoring the fact that she swiped them back up as she passed.

Being in the dining room was once again surreal, but it felt less daunting with Kyoya by her side. He sat opposite, and filled out the chair a lot more than she did, legs stretched underneath the table, working out the kinks from sleep, pretending not to notice the occasions his feet would nudge against hers.

Any and all hopes at getting him to eat were extinguished the moment Tachibana arrived, bearing a stack of papers that had Kyoya all-but shoving his plate to the side.

Frowning, Haruhi observed the way he poured over the text with vigour. "What's that?"

"I contacted a long-term Ootori attorney for advice, and as a possible representative should we decide to press charges against Takeda." His fingers folded together, and appraised her seriously. It was stiff and formal and seemed so awkward from him, like a child trying to imitate an adult. "I think we should. Press charges, I mean. Takeda knows where you live, and I don't imagine this situation will improve in the coming weeks. I admit, I don't exactly know what this will do to him- to his mental state- but it's better than…" He sighed, and the sound was bitter, and twenty years too old. "Better than this."

"How long has this been going on?"

The warning tone was present, swelling just below the surface.

"Less than a week, I believe. I didn't expect her to reply so soon, otherwise I would have discussed it with you earlier."

She considered his answer, fingers tapping a little rhythm against the table. "And you're certain about it?"

He nodded, a strong, decisive action. "Yes. Our only other option is waiting this out, and I haven't a clue how long that would go on for. If you want to get home as quickly as possible, I think this the best way to do so." He hesitated, before backtracking. "Of course, if you don't agree, we can always think of something else."

"No." Haruhi denied, quickly. "It seems logical. And I don't want anyone else getting hurt, so let's do it."

A strained silence followed, which crawled under her skin. Narrowing his eyes, Kyoya observed her with a hint of suspicion. "That was… surprisingly easy. I expected you to put up more of a fight."

A sheepish smile graced her face. "But why? It makes perfect sense to me, there's no point delaying it."

The suspicion dropped, replaced by instead by relief.

"Good morning, my lovelies! " A cheerful voice trilled from behind.

Ranka all but skipped into the room, pressing a kiss to Haruhi's forehead and ruffling Kyoya's hair as he passed. He was followed by a far more dignified Yoshio Ootori, who went all but unnoticed by the bespectacled boy, approaching with silence achieved over years to slide the papers out from Kyoya's hands. The scowl on the boy's face melted away the instant he recognised the man, replaced with something akin to joy.

"Father?"

Cold and calculating, his eyes swept over the text. "I see you've been in contact with Ito-san. Legal advice... possible representative…" A heavy pause. "These charges- Attempted Assault, Harassment, Assault and Battery?"

Ranka's cutlery clattered against the table, loud as a bomb. Kyoya had averted his eyes to the tablecloth, and was subconsciously picking at a loose thread. Haruhi, on the other hand, was looking nervously between the two adults, observing the way each adult showed their concern.

Her own father's was loud, obvious. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and it showed in his dropped mouth and clenched fists, expression twisted and pinched and pulled with worry. Yoshio's was far more subtle. A lesser person might miss it entirely, but the signs were definitely there; from the purse to his lips, to the widening of his eyes, and his unwavering gaze on his son, sweeping up and down for any sign of injuries, before turning and doing the same for her.

"Haruhi," The dulcet tones of her father greeted her, falsetto voice abandoned for something that was low, and gravely and altogether dangerous. "Please explain."

Across the table, Kyoya finally glanced up. His shoulders were bunched and tense, and Haruhi imagined he was trying to find the quickest escape route. Word-memory association was something Kyoya was very good at, which came in handy when he needed to memorize anything in a short period of time.

Word-memory association also caused him to associate certain topics with certain situations.

Good.

And bad.

This was one of those times that it was bad.

Very, very bad.

Like walking home late at night, only to find yourself being pulled into a car with a hood over your head and your wrists tied together, she knew she was in for a bumpy ride.

There was no doubt about it- he was reliving things- uncomfortable, awful things- their argument- all of it.

Taking a deep breath, she felt the pure _ice_ that was Kyoya's glare chill her to the core. He was trying to tell her something, probably _Hell no don't tell them_ , but it was hardly as though she had a choice in the matter. "I'd guess the attempted assault is from when Takeda tried to… I don't know, he lunged for us outside of the convenience store." Both adults looked to Kyoya, and received a stiff nod of confirmation. "Luckily Kyoya-senpai warded him off with pepper spray, but it's highly likely Takeda would've done something if we were unarmed."

Ranka touched her arm, soft and sad and terribly concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," She whispered back. "It was ages ago. He didn't touch either of us."

Yoshio, however, merely raised a brow. "Pepper spray?"

Kyoya didn't shrink in his seat, but it seemed like he very much wanted to. "I thought he had a knife."

"And where, may I ask, did you acquire such an item?"

He was getting restless. So restless, in fact, he was distracting himself by actually _eating_. A delaying tactic, but one that somewhat benefited his health. "Tachibana. After _the incident_ I don't believe that's too unreasonable of a request."

Ranka cocked his head. " _The incident_?" He echoed.

Haruhi kicked him under the table, and shook her head in a silent sign of _father dearest, I love you, but please kindly shut the fuck up_. Dismissing the exchange entirely, Yoshio waved a careless hand. "There was an attempted kidnapping during the opening of a new hospital. Our security put a stop to it, and Kyoya was unharmed." The aforementioned boy was back to examining the table as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world, and Haruhi really couldn't blame him. "If you'd mentioned feeling unsafe, I would have doubled your security team, Kyoya."

Haruhi sighed.

No wonder Kyoya was so hopeless.

"Not to impose, but I think you're missing the point, Ootori-san." Two pairs of glasses flashed as they focused on her. "If I'm right, and I think I _am_ , Kyoya-senpai didn't want more people to protect him. He wanted something that would enable him to protect _himself_."

Kyoya pushed his chair back. Loudly. "Are we quite done analysing my psyche?" He asked, in an attempt at humour that was far too bitter to be considered funny. "Because if so, I have a lot of things to do, and very little time in which to do them. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

A hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. "There are two different assault charges listed. I gather the other was pertaining to you?" Kyoya shook his arm free. It was a slow movement, more of an acceptance and agreement on both sides to truce. Reluctant, on Kyoya's part, who wanted nothing more than to escape this awful conversation.

"Nothing happened."

"Kyoya-"

"If I had been hospitalised, you would have known." He cocked his head, false politeness creeping into his tone. "May I please be excused now, father?"

Yoshio had barely finished a short nod before Kyoya had retrieved his papers, turned on his heels, and stalked away.

Haruhi sighed again, (something she seemed to be doing a lot lately), and followed, though not before pressing a kiss to her father's cheek, and bowing politely to the Ootori patriarch, who frowned after the retreating figure of his son.

Falling into step next to him, Haruhi held her arms behind her back, formal and playful all in one. "I never took you as one for dramatics, Kyoya-senpai."

He spared her a withering glare that did nothing to diminish her grin. "I would hardly call that dramatic considering how high Tamaki has sent the bar, but do proceed."

"He's just worried about you." She remarked, bluntly.

"Worried about me?" Kyoya echoed, drier than any desert she could name. "He's had almost ten years to be _worried about me_. I don't see any just cause for the special occasion."

Haruhi herself raised a simple shrug. "Is it so hard to believe he wants to make things right?"

Behind whatever cool front he projected, there was an obvious twitch in his muscles as he fought to keep a neutral expression. "Do you take me for a fool, Haruhi? I gave up on that ridiculous notion a long, _long_ time ago."

"Yet there's still part of you that hopes. What's holding you back, senpai?"

His mask had cracked. But it wasn't anger shining in his eyes. Only sadness. "Enough. Please. I can't deal with this right now. He had his chance. I'm not a child anymore, I didn't need him then, and I sure as hell don't need him now." His hands were shaking. "I don't want to discuss this any further."

There was a certain line in any friendship that should be tested, but not crossed.

Haruhi respected that. And she respected him. Placing a gentle hand on the crook of his arm, she squeezed gently. "Okay. You wanna go lie down before we go to Tamaki-senpai's?"

He adjusted his glasses, before pulling them off altogether, free hand massaging the area around his temples. "No. I wasn't lying earlier, there are matters that need to be dealt with. Namely responding to Ito-san, I should push for the charges to be issued as quickly as possible and…"

His hand moved to cradled his forehead, chin moving upwards in a slow, smooth arc. He exhaled, shakily. "Say, Haruhi. Do you ever get those… those moments where you don't want to exist. But… at the same time you're so utterly terrified of not existing, and so you're just _there_. Wondering how you can possibly justify the space you've filled to whatever higher power gave you the right to be here."

For some reason, the topic seemed far more important than he wanted to admit. "Well, I think everyone feels like that at some point. The trick is not to let it affect what you do _now_." She pursed her lips, thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, turning away. "I just don't want to exist today." There was a strong beat of silence, before he was whirling back around, eyes flashing with alarm. "I didn't mean that. I didn't mean that, I said it without thinking. Lately everything has me feeling all- I don't know, inside out I guess, and-"

In a movement so quick he could barely register it, she snatched the first paper from his pile and shoved it in his face. "Read this!" The hand he tried to use to move it was dodged, and Haruhi wondered where her sudden Ninja skills had emerged from, or whether this was just a pre-programmed reaction triggered only by the self-deprecation of those she cared for. "Read it, senpai!"

"Ah, yes. Let me just read this whole document as it is being shoved into my eye."

"Read it from there." She ordered, stubbornly, ignoring his sarcasm with ease.

His grip on her wrist was shaken off, roughly, and the paper remained almost pressed against his nose. "Will you just move it?"

"No." Her teeth were clenched.

"Haruhi, you need to-"

"Read. It. From. There."

Bafflement had devolved into irritation, clear and plain to see. "I can't when it's this close!"

"Exactly." Vision returned to all its former glory, he was met with the flushed cheeks and shining eyes of the fiery girl he'd come to know. "That's your problem, senpai. You're. Too. Close. Everything seems confusing and hectic to you, because you're not giving yourself the space you need. Take a step back."

A gentle hand splayed across his chest, and pushed him back a step. "And another." She encouraged, smiling when he did. "Now look again. That extra distance goes a long way to help to give you a clearer image of what you're trying to focus on." Fingers squared, she peered through them at him, smiling softly. "Any better?"

He considered her intently, breathing deep and even.

The panic dissipated, leaving him drained, a little confused, but far less _angry._

And that was a start.

"Much." His hand raked through his hair. "Thank you."

"And, just for the record, senpai; I'm glad you exist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone reading this; I'm glad you exist, too


	17. Maybe We Can Nope Out Of This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoya and Haruhi try to relax, and the world inevitably protests

Haruhi was beginning to suspect that Noel possessed some strange and wonderful superpower.

Lying flat on his back, one arm tucked underneath his head, Kyoya couldn't fight the amused quirk of his lips as he petted his kitten. Ten minutes prior, Noel had claimed his chest as an appropriate resting place, and Kyoya had barely moved a muscle since. Currently, she was dozing contently, tail tucked neatly underneath her chin. And like the sappy shit he was, Kyoya was tickling her ears with a dopey smile on his face that was so unlike him, but at the same time, was just so inherently  _him_ that the whiplash almost caused physical pain.

In all honesty, Haruhi was almost ready to bow down and worship the ground Noel walked upon. There she was, in all her feline glory, sucking the tension from his body and leaving him emotionally drained, but far more mellow. The hard line of his jaw had relaxed to the point where Haruhi no longer feared for the condition of his teeth. Though with how tightly he clenched them before, she was beginning to pity his dentist.

Weirdly, it was almost as though the altercation at brunch hadn't occurred at all.

(Though she had a sinking suspicion he was playing the old Deny-Until-You-Die card to avoid ever mentioning both it and his subsequent lack of control, however minor it was. With him, any lapse from perfection seemed to be unacceptable).

She'd texted Tamaki a little while ago to warn him that Kyoya wasn't quite at his best (conveniently failing to mention the tight knots bunching in her own stomach), and hoped that with his bright energy and endless enthusiasm, he would be able to recharge Kyoya's social battery in no time.

Regardless of how immature he could be, Tamaki knew Kyoya inside out, and was able to handle him with ease, no matter the situation. That skill was something she had yet to achieve, but she liked to hope that she was working towards it.

With a frown, Haruhi burrowed deeper into the warmth of her blanket.

It seemed the stress was catching up to both of them.

From where she had been so distant, almost numb to it all, icy tendrils of fear were beginning to creep in, gripping vice-tight around her throat.

Kyoya hummed a question that she missed completely, his glasses pushed up into his hair, unguarded eyes searching her face.

"What?"

His hand stilled over Noel's back. "I said, are you alright? You're rather pale."

A glance down at her arm yielded no startling results. She checked the other, gaze raking over her skin, before raising back to meet his own.

"I'm fine." Her tone edged on confusion.

Rather than reassuring him, he grew ever more concerned. Pushing his glasses back down, he distracted himself for a moment, hand running over silky fur as he gathered his thoughts. "That wouldn't happen to be a lie, would it?"

She opened her mouth, fully ready to protest, before pausing.

He watched, somewhat fascinated, at her attempts to force the words out. Eventually, she slumped forward, and gave a shrug. When he made no attempt to continue the conversation, she turned her attention away from the utterly  _enthralling_  image of the embroidered cushion, and over to him.

Now sitting crossed legged, a more grumpy Noel sprawled across his lap, he waited with as much patience as he could muster, clearly inviting her to expand.

Which was really the last thing she wanted to do.

While Haruhi certainly wasn't as emotionally constipated as Kyoya, admitting how not-okay she was was right up there next to downing cyanide on her bucket list. Some part of her was convinced that if she just didn't pay these thoughts, these  _episodes_  any mind, that she could glide on through with minimal difficulty. That if she continue pretending, she'd be able to fool herself that she wasn't all torn up inside.

Telling Kyoya- about the ice in her veins, or the sweat dripping down her back in the dead of night, about feeling her throat close up when someone bumped into her in the hallway- that was something she couldn't do.

Kyoya thought she was okay. And as long as she was okay, he didn't have to worry about her.

He was burdened enough as it was. She refused to add to it.

"Haruhi." He prompted, not unkindly.

The silence had stretched out longer than she'd realised- deep creases had formed between his brows.

"It's nothing, senpai. Just worried about leaving dad here, I guess." She said.

It sounded so  _fake._

All twisted and upside down, almost as thought she was listening to her own voice being played back to her. There was a detached feeling to it, as though she hadn't really said anything at all.

"He'll be perfectly safe," Kyoya said, slowly, most certainly reading her expression with each cautious word. "My family has exceptional security, what with the Black Onion Squad being trained by both the Haninozuka and the Morinozuka family. Nothing will be able to hurt him within these walls."

Haruhi smiled, wanly. "I know. He'll be with your father, too, and I heard Akito would be returning home today. It's stupid of me to worry, really-"

"It's not wrong."

She cocked her head. "Hm?"

"That's what you always say, is it not? Your feelings are perfectly valid. It isn't wrong for you to worry, so don't act as though it is." He smiled, lazily pushing his hair off his forehead. "Despite that, I assure you, there aren't many places on this Earth where he would be safer than right here. And I know that I, for one, wouldn't be against you checking in with him either, if it'll ease your nerves."

She pulled her knees up, and rested her chin on folded arms. Kyoya would surely psycho-analyse the fuck out of the small, guarded position, but in that moment, she couldn't care less. "Yeah. It's just… hard. I don't like not being able to see him, you know? Like if he's out of my sight for a second, I won't ever see him again."

For once, Kyoya wasn't quite fast enough. She caught a fleeting glimpse of the haunted look in his eyes, before he angled his head to catch the glare off his glasses. "I understand." He said, quietly, and then his expression schooled back into careful neutrality. "It'll only be for one night."

God, when had Kyoya been replaced by an alien clone? Who knew the boy could actually emote like a normal human being without self-destructing?

The thought had a smile easing onto her face. "Just one night."

"And…"A hand rubbed the back of his neck, awkward and earnest both rolled into one. "If for whatever reason you can't manage it, or you change your mind, I'll bring you back here myself if I have to. The others will surely understand as well. So don't feel like you have to force yourself for our sake. Alright?"

"Alright." Haruhi agreed. "Thank you, senpai."

He rolled his eyes, but there was fondness there. "You're usually the one giving the pep talks. It's only natural for me to return the favour every once in a while."

With a huff, she balled up a nearby scrap of paper, and tossed it at him. It bounced harmlessly off his shoulder, and elicited a quizzical expression from the boy that was honestly somewhat adorable. Though if she'd voiced that aloud, Kyoya surely would have killed her. "Why does everything have to sound like a business deal with you?"

Her complaint evoked a smile. "Well, I  _am_  a businessman."

Before they could dive in any further, Kyoya's phone pinged. He gave a courtesy glance, before stretching. "That's Tamaki. The car's outside. Grab your things, we shouldn't keep him waiting too long."

Actually leaving the house was a more complicated endeavour than she initially assumed. Kyoya had their bags slung over each shoulder, while Haruhi had scooped Noel up after the fourth time of her getting beneath the boy's feet and almost tripping him. It wouldn't be the most graceful demise, and by the hassled tension in his jaw, it was obvious just how much he appreciated the unobstructed movement.

(Still, she was sure that even if he did end up falling over the cat, he'd be more concerned with any injuries Noel had sustained than with his own condition).

If that wasn't enough, their fathers caught them by the door, which was more than a little awkward. Ranka almost completely crushed her in a hug, (thankfully she'd lowered Noel to the floor seconds prior to the assault of affection), and then had proceeded to give Kyoya the same treatment. Yoshio merely nodded softly to his own son, and watched them go, pensive behind his attempt at neutrality.

Still, they made it to the car in one piece, and while Tamaki talked their ears off for the journey to the Suoh residence, nothing of major incident occurred.

The instant they arrived, an excitable Antoinette almost knocked Kyoya straight to the floor, while Hikaru dragged her into a game of Mario Kart with Mori and Honey. What conversation could be held was intermittent with screaming and curses, and a slew of unhelpful backseat driving courtesy of Kaoru.

She ended up in a respectable sixth, with Mori beating out all three of them in first, and Hikaru and Honey tied in second. Swapping out with Kaoru, she went to grab herself a drink and only then realised that both Tamaki and Kyoya were absent (and, alarmingly, had been absent the whole game).

On her way to the kitchen, (which she missed twice), she passed a room with the door cracked slightly open, enough that she could hear the two missing boys conversing quietly.

" _\- Kyoya, maybe you should ask your dad? He's an adult, he has more resources than us. He could help-"_

" _No."_ The slight tremor betrayed his otherwise firmness. " _I want nothing to do with him. He doesn't deserve_ anything  _from me. Why is everyone so insistent about this?"_

" _Because we can see that he's trying!"_

" _Tamaki-"_

" _You should give him a chance, mon ami. He wants to make things right, that should be a good thing. Deliberately isolating yourself like this is hurting you the most, and I hate to see you like that. You could have everything you've ever wanted, but you're too afraid to step into that unknown territory."_ Tamaki sighed softly, and quite obviously squeezed his friend's shoulder. " _Sometimes your need for control is your biggest flaw."_

" _MOTHERFU- WHO SENT THAT BLUE SHELL?"_

The shout drew her from her daze. Feeling increasingly more embarrassed for eavesdropping, Haruhi pushed off the wall, catching the tail end of Kyoya's statement as she left. " _Will you be satisfied if I promise to call Yuuichi?"_

What exactly they were discussing was beyond her knowledge, yet something in her gut tightened. She pushed past the discomfort and ran a glass of water, following the sounds of Hikaru and Kaoru screaming at each other to guide herself back.

Kyoya and Tamaki returned for the third race of the game, accompanied by Antoinette, who hopped up next to her on the loveseat and thrust her head into Haruhi's lap.

_(Hikaru picked Ghost Valley and subsequently received three identical death glares. Honey shoved him off the track within the first ten seconds, much to the amusement of everyone else._

_Surprisingly, the redhead failed to see the humour in the situation. He got his revenge in the second lap, shelling the blond Lolishorta three times in quick succession, after which Honey was promptly flattened by an enlarged Toad)._

All throughout the round, she watched Kyoya from the corner of her eye. He was surprisingly normal, maybe a little more tired than before, but was content to curl up on the furthest corner of the couch, gaining just enough distance to avoid Tamaki's jostling. The blond was even worse than Kaoru, and his advice was less than appreciated by those playing.

The next swap had Tamaki, Hikaru, Mori and (a very reluctant) Kyoya playing.

Tamaki electively decided that since he was the King, he should therefore be player one. Hikaru rolled his eyes and grabbed the second player controller, Mori the third, while an utterly done Kyoya took fourth.

If she thought the twins were loud, she was wholly unprepared for the volume of Tamaki's screeches. Every little thing set him off, and very quickly a mischievous Honey was accidentally-on-purpose nudging him under the guise of moving into a more comfortable position.

" _WHO HIT ME WITH THAT SHELL? HIKARU, I KNOW THAT WAS YOU!"_

Apparently, Tamaki was getting targeted again. Being an absolutely shit driver in general, Haruhi wasn't exactly surprised by this.

Hikaru merely snickered. "Boss, I'm in front of you."

"MUMMY!"

Clearly questioning his choice in friends, Kyoya sighed. "I'm also in front of you."

"On your left."

"I CAN CLEARLY SEE YOU PASSING ON THE RIGHT, RESPECT YOUR KING, MORI-SENPAI!"

Mori stuck a banana behind him in lieu of replying, which Tamaki ploughed directly into.

Haruhi was truly amazed at how nobody had come to check on them yet. They could be getting shanked right then and there and nobody would even know. What with Hikaru and Kaoru once again yelling at each other  _("TURN LEFT, TURN LEFT!" - "I AM TURNING LEFT!" - "YOU'RE NOT TURNING LEFT!" A shriek as Hikaru's character tumbled over the side, and then, "I TOLD YOU TO TURN LEFT!"),_ and Tamaki still vehemently cursing out Mori, it was pure chaos.

The saga continued with a second bout of hollering from Kaoru, this time directed at Tamaki. "Hit him! Throw the shell! WHAT WAS THAT, THAT WAS NOT HITTING HIM! HE WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, HOW COULD YOU MISS?"

Needless to say, Kyoya won. Considering the three of them seemed to forget he was playing entirely, it wasn't exactly a difficult victory.

Deciding to spare their poor throats from further abuse, Haruhi suggested a movie, which the twins very eagerly agreed to. From their wicked smirks, Haruhi was beginning to regret saying anything at all. Kyoya apparently shared that sentiment, for when the two redheads clambered over everyone for prime spots, he escaped the tangle of limbs and dropped down next to her on the loveseat.

Antoinette whimpered happily, and nuzzled her wet nose against his neck. He shivered at the cold, and carefully tried to push her away. He failed, and ended up with a lapful of excited golden retriever, who blatantly ignored his whispered protests.

After Mori shot the twins the kind of warning glance that was typically reserved for cats who were about to swipe a full glass off a table, they settled on one of the Avengers movies, extremely put out that they couldn't pick a horror. They were quickly distracted when Tamaki re-entered the room with bowls of popcorn. He handed off an especially heaped bowl to Kyoya with a wink and a promise that it was exactly how he liked it. Kyoya's expression softened into fondness, and despite the tantalising smell of food, Antoinette barely twitched.

She remained with her head tucked underneath Kyoya's hand even as he ditched the popcorn on the side after barely eating anything.

Perhaps the dog was smarter than everyone gave her credit for. It seemed as though she could sense something wasn't quite right with the boy, and sought to comfort him.

The thought brought a smile to her face.

He really did seem a lot more content, and right now, that was enough.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Raking a hand through his hair, Kyoya looked up at exactly the precise moment to see Haruhi smack her head against the door frame as she shuffled into the room. Far beyond confused, the girl cradled her injury, the other hand moving to stifle a yawn.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked pleasantly, around 90 percent certain that was his shirt she was wearing.

She nodded, wiping stray moisture from her eyes. "I don't remember getting into bed."

"Technically, you didn't. You actually fell asleep on the couch." He could see the cogs struggling to turn in her head as she slowly looked from him to the door, so he clarified. "Mori-senpai carried you to your room."

Making an indistinct acknowledging mumble, Haruhi padded closer, hugging her knees to her chest once she settled herself on the chair next to Kyoya.

He frowned. "Are you still tired?"

"No," her voice was slow, lacking confidence. Eyes dropping to her lap, she displayed her own confusion, and wordlessly pointed at his mug of coffee.

"Help yourself."

She smiled gratefully when he pushed the mug across the table towards her, eagerly taking a long gulp. It took more willpower than Kyoya knew he possessed to stop himself laughing at how Haruhi's expression morphed to disgust, her little nose wrinkling.

"Not to your taste, I gather?"

Somehow, she swallowed, warily licking her lips.

"That's darker than normal. You've never had your coffee this black before."

His gaze seemed to penetrate her, leaving her defenceless. "Is that so?"

"Did you sleep at all?"

His fingers tip-tapped on the table, nails drumming a restless rhythm that disclosed all Haruhi wanted to know. "A little." he replied, finally. When she stared at him, long and hard, he sighed and almost deflated, remembering words from so, so many weeks before, but to him, it seemed like years. "Enough to function properly."

_Enough_ because there was a difference between that, and no sleep at all, just like how  _tired_ was cute and sleepy and entirely harmless while  _exhausted_ was six mugs of coffee and murder.

Brows drawn together dubiously, Haruhi took another small sip of the beverage, her upper lip curling in distaste. "I have no idea how you can drink this."

"Practise."

" _It's vile_."

"That's harsh."

She still looked drowsy, so Kyoya hauled himself from his chair with a resigned sigh. "I'll make you some. Just fix your hair." His fingers teased an unruly lock as he passed and in the corner of his eye, her head bobbed minutely as she fought to tame the mess.

Before he could even leave the room, her noise of surprise stopped him in his tracks. "Don't you guys have maids and stuff for that?"

"We do," He allowed, fighting back a smirk. "But Tamaki thought you'd appreciate a more relaxed environment. His staff made themselves scarce not long after we arrived, and have until later this evening off. I doubt they usually get much of a lie in, so I'm sure they're quite pleased with this turn of events."

Her quizzical expression softened into one of fondness. "Oh, right."

He used instant coffee. Not only because it was quick and simple to make, but because he thought the familiarity would comfort the girl. A dash of milk and two teaspoons of sugar later, he casually leaned against the doorway, unruffled by the fact that the brunette was skimming through the files on his laptop.

"Finished already?" She queried, mildly.

"Not quite. There's cream in the fridge. Would you like some for your coffee?"

Still not bothering to avert her eyes from the screen, Haruhi absently shook her head. "I'm not too fond of cream. Especially in drinks."

"Cakes are different, I presume?"

Ochre orbs flickered up with a hint of amusement. "Of course." They widened upon spotting the silver foil in his hand. "Is that chocolate?"

He nodded. "Dark." Her eagerness was unmistakable. "You like it, too?"

"It's my favourite."

He broke a row and tossed it to her, then carefully carried over her coffee, barely batting an eyelid as she dropped a square of chocolate in the liquid. "Strange choice." Kyoya himself was savouring a cube on the top of his tongue, giving a content hum as it melted in his mouth.

"Comfort food." She explained offhandedly, dumping another square in. "I've been craving it for a while."

"That's fair enough." Successfully ignoring how the girl pouted when he pulled his laptop back towards himself, Kyoya returned to work.

As it turned out, Ito-san was thorough and incredibly helpful. Her step by step methods aided to organise his thought process and keep him centred and in the moment, rather than agonising over the countless what-if scenarios of the future. Still, his earlier talk with Tamaki was fresh on his mind.

Almost straight from the beginning, the boy had steered him into an empty room, blue eyes sharp and able to cut him right down to the core. It was child's play for him to extract everything- his fears and worries and how utterly  _useless_ he felt.

The Protective Order wasn't their great saviour. Quite frankly, it wouldn't do shit to stop Takeda from going for them again. But it would mean that if he ever violated the terms, he would face a much harsher conviction. Kyoya hated it, the fact that they had to sit and wait and risk their safety to get him locked away, to keep them  _safe._ He hated how it was  _necessary._

As much as he'd like to have the bastard take a very long walk off a short pier, doing so wouldn't exactly be lawful. Neither would locking him up until the end of time. The punishment has to fit the crime, and up against a jury, Takeda's crime certainly wouldn't fit the punishment Kyoya wanted.

He'd promised Haruhi he'd fix it.

It was  _November_ for god's sake.

She'd been living hell for over  _two months_ , and he'd done  _nothing._

And then there was Tamaki, being logical and untying the knots in his brain-  _Talk to your dad, talk to_   _ **someone.**_ _They're there, waiting for you to lean on them._

_It doesn't make you weak if you need help._ Kyoya wasn't sure how much he believed that, but Tamaki was insistent, so he'd relented.

Sighing, he focused back on the text.

During his dilemma, Haruhi wandered off to pick a book from the shelf and was busy reading. They remained in content silence, occasionally sharing the odd word or two, until Tamaki woke up an hour and a half later and complained about them not sharing the chocolate with him. His wailing evidently roused the twins, who were all long stretches and sleepy yawns, silencing Tamaki from the sharpness of their glares alone.

Kyoya, always well versed in the art of completely ignoring his friends, had tuned out most of the exchange. That was until Kaoru took one look at Haruhi, who had started moving out of the room, and pushed her down in a nearby chair.

"Um… What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" He responded, flippantly. "I'm making you breakfast. You look like you need it."

Haruhi was left somewhat perplexed, remaining still purely because Antoinette had arrived and decided she absolutely needed to be petted by the girl. The redhead returned donned in an apron, and promptly marched over to Kyoya, insistently closing the lid of his laptop.

Kyoya felt his fingers twitch, annoyance simmering below the surface.

"Have you had breakfast?"

Expression deadpan, he took a long sip of coffee. "Yes."

"Coffee doesn't count as breakfast."

"Then no."

Considering his last experience with the twin's cooking, Kyoya began preparing to evacuate the house. In the end, Kaoru dished out two plates that looked fairly appetising. It might have been the bitter and jaded part of him, but he'd expected worse. Honestly, he was just surprised nothing had ended up on fire or in pieces. But then again, Hikaru had been evicted from the kitchen straight away, so that probably had a big part to play in the rampant lack of pyromania.

All in all, it had been good.

Haruhi stepped outside the room to check in with her father, and when she returned, Kyoya showed her the picture an extremely confused Akito had forwarded to him earlier that day.

Apparently their fathers were bonding over baby pictures.

Kyoya almost couldn't believe his eyes. Haruhi, on the other hand, merely slapped a hand to her forehead and groaned.

Almost the second she was out of earshot, Kyoya was yanked into the corner of the room in a blur of red. After a taking a second to orientate himself, he became aware of the arms slung around his neck, each belonging to one Hitachiin twin.

"Say, Kyoya-senpai," Hikaru-or-Kaoru began, tone lowered conversationally.

"Don't you think Haruhi's been acting weird for the past couple of days?" The other finished.

Both were looking at him expectantly, occasionally shooting concerned glances in Haruhi's direction. "I imagine it's just stress. She's been uprooted from her home for an indefinite period of time, and we all know how much she hates relying on others. This is likely something taken from one of her worst nightmares."

The twin on his left clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "We're not talking about that, senpai." Unsure how to handle this sudden condescension, Kyoya settled for a frown. "Look, Kaoru agrees with me. We've been watching her since yesterday, and she's been holding her stomach a lot. Like she's in  _pain._  She doesn't normally do that. Do you know if she hurt herself or something?"

Kyoya took a very long moment to study them. Hikaru was paler than usual, while Kaoru was worrying his lip almost to the point of making it bleed. God, those two dumbasses were completely  _serious._ "Oh, that? She's just on her period." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it  _was_ , somewhat confused as to how that hadn't been their first assumption.

All of a sudden, he couldn't breathe. Hikaru had jerked him down into a tight huddle so quickly the air had lodged in his throat, muffling his noise of surprise. Throwing surreptitious glances over their shoulders, they rounded on him, obviously nervous. "You can't just say that!" Kaoru hissed.

"It's rude as hell, and girls go bat shit psycho over stuff like that! Are you stupid?"

Those two were really going to give him a migraine. Fighting against the temptation to introduce his head to the nearest wall, Kyoya attempted to find his chill. "It wasn't an expression. Why do you think I'm carrying tampons in my bag?"

"Oh." Hikaru's mouth was somewhat unhinged as he thought it through. Partaking in some form of twin-telepathy with Kaoru, they stared at each other for a few prolonged seconds, before nodding and releasing the boy. "Okay. Does she need… stuff. Like chocolate. Chocolate's supposed to make you feel better, right?"

"She had some this morning." Kyoya mentally congratulated himself on that find.

Kaoru visibly deflated, before an idea struck him. "What about painkillers?"

"Or a hot water bottle?"

Kyoya smothered his shrug. "I'd say it's fine, as long as you don't go overboard." He was left talking to thin air, as the two had already scrambled away.

Sending mental apologies in Haruhi's direction, Kyoya went to hunt down Tamaki. Low-key wasn't in either of the twin's vocabulary, and, no matter how amusing the fall-out may be, he really didn't want to be present when it all went to shit. Especially since Haruhi would likely round on him after chewing them out for encouraging them.

Fast as a whip, Antoinette came hurtling down the corridor at the sound of his footsteps, happy to bounce around him as he searched. Or,  _tried_ to search, at least. Almost immediately, his phone was ringing.

_Tachibana._

A knot of unease twisted in his stomach.

Tamaki and Haruhi found him ten minutes later. Collapsed into a tight corner, back jammed painfully against the wall. Antoinette in his lap, his free hand tangled in her fur. His ministrations were shaky, an awkward staccato that did nothing to calm him.

He ended the call as they approached, failing to keep his expression neutral.

"Kyoya?" Tamaki edged, hesitantly.

Haruhi knelt down in front of them, placating the dog when she raised her head, wary. "Is everything okay, senpai?"

" _I'm sorry_." Were the first words he could force out, which, in hindsight, was probably not the smartest thing to say. Fear hit her with the force of a wrecking ball, paling her face almost instantly. "Your apartment- there was a break in. I think it was Takeda."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antoinette is the best girl, honestly
> 
> (Though Noel hates her with a passion, and will scratch Tamaki if he smells like her)


	18. The Fine Art Of Bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugs are needed all around

The impact against his knuckles was sudden and hard, jolting up his entire arm. Swinging with single-minded determination, he struck the bag over and over as it swayed to and fro. And if he imagined his fist punching a lovely neat hole through a certain someone's head, well, what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Still, even with sweat running stabbing paths down his back and his skin faintly throbbing, it wasn't  _enough._

The quiet place in his mind was getting louder and louder; a twisting, pulling, scraping kind of force, crushing any lingering positivity between an iron fist.

" _I'm sorry. Your apartment- there was a break in. I think it was Takeda."_

All he could see was her  _face-_ the dread, the horror, the overwhelming undercurrent of fear. How she gripped his arm to keep herself upright, lost and so terribly unsure, the power of speech abandoning her completely. He held her steadfast, unwavering, registering the fact that they were both trembling, and faintly hoping she wouldn't notice.

She didn't- of course she didn't. Tossed down the well of fear, she could barely hear them talking to her.

Tamaki, however, did. Worrying his bottom lip to the point of bleeding, he hovered, hands outstretched and hesitating, like he didn't quite know what to do with them. Had this been any other moment, the sight would've been amusing. Right then, Kyoya wasn't sure he'd ever laugh again.

Antoinette whined lowly in her throat, and stuck fast to his side, a protective kind of gesture that continued out of the front door and all the way to Tamaki's awaiting car. She had to be wrangled by a maid to stop from hopping in after the three teens. Despite his usual exasperation regarding the dog, Kyoya could admit that he appreciated her presence.

Before, she'd curled up against him throughout the entire phone call, nudging her head underneath his hand, encouraging him to loosen up. And when his chest constricted and his mouth dried out, he latched onto the feeling of warm fur beneath his fingers, and rode the waves up to the surface.

Clenching his jaw tighter, Kyoya ignored the ache at his cheeks and the throbbing of his hands, and pounded the bag, gaining a sick sense of satisfaction with each heavy  _thump._

The lump at his throat only grew when he remembered how Ranka had pulled both him and Haruhi into a hug, a hand feather light against a cheek each, soft and reassuring, and so, so relieved that they were there and whole and  _safe_.

Then there was talking- and his eyes couldn't stop darting around.

The air was hot and heavy and pressing down on him, and he couldn't seem to  _breathe-_ his father was saying something, and Kyoya hadn't even realised he was there, and everything was too bright and too loud and too  _much-_

Kyoya found himself in the gym before he knew it, shirt tossed on the floor, going to town on the punching bag.

At least then he could blame his gasping breaths on overexertion.

"That's enough, son."

Shoulders heaving, Kyoya stilled obediently. But when he reflexively drew away from the approaching footsteps, they halted, and Tachibana released a small, achingly fond sigh. "What did the punching bag ever to to you?"

Kyoya's arms slowly dropped from where they had been wrapped around him. "It's sole function is to be struck." His voice sounded shaky, even to his own ears. "Would you rather I use it as a paperweight instead?"

With a frown and a strong fold of his arms, Tachibana observed him. As a child, that specific stance was typically paired with a scolding, which the boy braced himself for. "I thought I taught you not to sass your elders, young man." Kyoya valiantly fought against rolling his eyes, and it must have shown. "Come over, I want to check your hands."

As if summoned, his knuckles gave a particularly painful twinge.

Kyoya closed the distance, and sheepishly presented them, avoiding the disapproving sharpness of Tachibana's gaze. His touch was gentle, inspecting the skin that was vaguely red and throbbing- already tinting towards bruising. He prayed to god they didn't look too bad. Everyone and their mother would be shooting him concerned looks in the following days, and Kyoya really didn't have the patience for that kind of bullshit.

Another sigh graced his ears, but that was it. Tachibana never raised his voice, which he supposed was a good thing. He never had been fond of yelling, even when it wasn't directed at him. Instead, the man would always settle for disappointment. To Kyoya, that always struck deeper than any harsh word ever could.

"I'm sorry." Kyoya mumbled, mostly out of some strange feeling of obligation. There was some guilt there, too, but both melted away with one warm smile.

"You really did a number there, kiddo." Tachibana was probably the only person alive who could get away with calling him that. "I'm a little impressed, actually. They do look like they're going to be sore later, though so I'd suggest some ice, to reduce the swelling. But, right now, you can settle for a hug."

The motion was deliberately slow and large, giving him a chance to step away if he needed to.

Hell would freeze over before he ever even  _considered_  such a thing, and so Kyoya was gathered up in a warm, firm hug that was all reassurance and the spicy scent of deodorant- and if his glasses were crushed against the bridge of his nose, then so be it. Registering the steady pump of Tachibana's heart, he allowed the rhythmic beat to anchor him to reality.

"Why do shitty things always have to happen to good people?"

Tachibana shifted to consider him, but Kyoya stubbornly kept his head buried against the man's shoulder.

_Why would you say that what kind of goddamn idiot-_

"Are you talking about Haruhi-chan?" Unwilling to commit to a verbal response, Kyoya merely shrugged. Tachibana exhaled, the sound heavy and discontent. "I don't know, kiddo. I guess the reality is that shitty things happen to everyone, some are just worse than others. The main point to remember is that neither of you are alone. You have a support system right here, and we  _are_ going to fix this. I promise."

Kyoya's mumble was lost in Tachibana's smart suit jacket.

The man responded by simply patting his head. Hand still firmly lost in his hair, Kyoya finally looked up and glared, receiving an extra vigorous hair-ruffling for his trouble.

"You'll get through this. You and Haruhi-chan both." He squeezed him fondly, before finally pulling away. "You're a good kid, Kyoya."

Kyoya's smile thinned, wobbling at the edges, before disappearing entirely. "I'm not a good person."

Tachibana cocked a brow, already a clear invitation to expand. Kyoya felt sick just thinking about it. "Really now. What makes you say that?"

He scoffed in reply, fingernails gouging crescent shaped marks in his skin. Tachibana carefully prised his hands away, thumb smoothing over the deep grooves left behind. "Because… good people don't want other people dead." The words lodged painfully in his throat. With a frustrated huff, Kyoya forced them out, and met expectant eyes. "I can't stand it anymore, Bana. Everything he's doing- how much he's hurting her. I want it to stop- I wanted him  _dead_."

"Ah. You said  _wanted_ that time. You  _wanted_ him dead. Past tense."

The whites of his knuckles were showing against his skin. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters a lot." He said, stance open and loose and utterly non-threatening, because he knew the lack of confrontation was just what he needed. God, the world didn't deserve Tachibana. "You're drawing a correlation between safety and his lack of presence, which is valid. If Takeda isn't around, you and Haruhi-chan would be safe. She wouldn't have to stay here anymore, and you both can start falling back into normal routines."

Tachibana smiled, the warm kind that loosened the knots that were building in his stomach. "When you say you want him dead, what you really mean is that you want to be  _safe._ You want guaranteed protection. That's not something you should have to fight for. You're young and you're angry, and you're scared. And that's  _okay_ , Kyoya."

_It doesn't feel okay._

In fact, it felt the exact opposite of okay.

Kyoya Ootori was supposed to be controlled and calm and composed.  _Nothing_ could shake him. Great roots kept him grounded, secure, he stood tall as a mighty Redwood, and was just as imposing.

Being scared- that wasn't something he was prepared to handle.

"Don't think that about yourself, alright? Look, I've actually killed people before. Does that make me a bad person?"

Outrage sparked, bright and sharp, burning with the ferocity of a wildfire.  _Over his head body_ was Tachibana going to insult himself. "That was different. You were in the military- you  _had_ to do that. You were saving  _lives-_ "

"Do you have to end lives to save others?"

Kyoya frowned, feeling deep furrows form between his brows. After a prolonged pause, Tachibana dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand. Kyoya exhaled, and cradled his head with his hand, knocking his glasses askew in the process. "I just want it to  _stop._ Is that honestly too much to ask?"

"I know, kid." He sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Will you please just let us handle it? Give your father what you've been working on. Or Yuuichi, or Fuyumi, even Akito, or  _me,_ I don't  _care._ Just let an adult take care of it. I shouldn't have even let you do this in the first place"

"No." The response was immediate, and sharper than he intended. "I  _need_ this. I can deal with it, Bana."

He couldn't bring himself to be mad, not when Tachibana was looking at him with such worried eyes. Kyoya stepped away, unconsciously, the line of his jaw hard and jutting out.

"Absolutely not." Tachibana spoke with absolute certainty. "Have you even looked in a mirror recently, Kyoya? You're so pale, and you've lost weight. Hell, you have bags on your bags. You're a  _kid._ You have school and your friends and your  _life_ to focus on. Let us handle it- we have more time, experience and resources than you do. Listen, you're on the very fine line of potentially making a mistake, or accidentally doing something illegal- both of which would mess up your case. You've worked so hard, endured too much, for this to fall through in the last hour."

" _I know what I'm doing_ -"

A simple raised hand silenced him.

"If you can't trust anyone else, then at least trust me."

The cogs in his mind were reeling. On the one hand, he could absolutely trust Tachibana with his life, and would do so without hesitation. On the other hand, the flip-flop of his stomach and the ice in his veins screamed not to trust anyone.

Both made equally convincing arguments.

That was until Tachibana continued, and there was a hitch in his voice that utterly  _broke_ him. "I'm  _worried_  about you, Kyoya. I don't know what I'd do if something ever happened to you."

It was entirely unfair, the way his emotions betrayed him.

Fighting to keep the guilt from his face, he distracted himself by stooping down, and collecting his forgotten shirt. He slipped it on, dragging the silence out longer than necessary to collect himself. "I'm sorry." He said, finally. It was barely above a whisper, but the man heart him all the same. "You're right, and I was being a stubborn brat. I trust you to take care of it from now on. I'm handing the proverbial reins over to you, so to say."

Kyoya leaned into the hand Tachibana clapped on his shoulder. That one touch spoke so much. "Don't look so down, I promise I'll keep you in the loop." There was a sour taste in his mouth, but he tried to look grateful. "Now, we should get moving. Your friends arrived not long ago, they're all waiting in the North Wing Lounge to hear the details over the break in."

Well aware that refusing wasn't an option, a resigned Kyoya traipsed down the hallway, Tachibana following closely behind.

Before Kyoya had even fully entered the room, Tamaki had vacated the seat next to Haruhi. Kyoya dropped down beside her without complaint, shooting her a small smile, which she returned, albeit far more strained.

A subtle pan of the room showed that Hikaru and Kaoru were seated on one end of a nearby chaise, huddled closely together. Kaoru was picking at the hem of his shirt, Hikaru at his cuticles. Both wore dark expressions and were uncharacteristically silent. Mori and Honey took up the remaining space. Honey was swinging his legs, a nervous kind of action. Mori was so still he could almost be mistaken for a statue. They were both frowning, and Honey was holding his Usa-chan a little tighter than normal.

Evidently they had been informed of the basics of what caused this impromptu meeting, and the subsequent abandonment of them at Tamaki's house. Speaking of Tamaki, the boy was slouched in a large armchair, his foot bouncing erratically. He was a stark contrast to Kyoya's ramrod posture and forced stillness as Tachibana began to talk.

Still, Kyoya was only human, and certain things were bound to evoke a reaction. Like the tiny ninja she was, Haruhi took advantage of the distraction to slip her hand into his without looking his way or betraying any obvious movement. Keeping his expression perfectly neutral, he gave her palm a little squeeze, which she returned in two short bursts.

Through the contact, the subtle tremor was undeniable.

He didn't say a word. She didn't want to bring attention to herself, so he respected that.

Using his thumb to rub soothing circles over her skin, Kyoya re-focused on Tachibana.

From what they could surmise, Haruhi and Ranka's apartment had been invaded from the kitchen window. The glass had been smashed and cleared from the frame, allowing the intruder to climb through and enter the apartment. Most of the mess was centred in Haruhi's room, which in normal circumstances wouldn't make sense considering she was a poor as shit student. She owned approximately zero items valuable enough to warrant this kind of frenzied search. From just the picture alone, it was hard to tell whether anything was missing, but Kyoya certainly wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

The girl's lips were downturned as they flicked through picture after picture of the carnage, and the pressure on his hand suddenly increased as an image of her mother's upturned shrine flickered into life. Kyoya was squeezing back just as hard, and Ranka inhaled sharply on her other side, eyes glassy with tears.

Without a doubt, the front door had been the exit point, the wood earning some new scruffs from the force of being slammed open and shut.

Both their prefecture's police department and the Black Onion Squad were working side-by-side on the case, and, according to Tachibana, would likely be detaining Takeda in the next couple of days for questioning.

Evidently it was a common consensus that Takeda was responsible for the break in. There was a relief in knowing that he wasn't alone in his suspicions. But the nagging annoyance remained that a shared belief wasn't nearly enough evidence to convict the bastard. How Kyoya would love to throw him in a cell and let him rot there. A life, no matter how meagre, was more than he deserved.

Tachibana clapping his hands together pulled Kyoya back to reality. With the situation debriefed and the following steps outlined as best as they could be, they were all dismissed, the mood far more sober than before.

Haruhi released his hand to stretch, and both of them acted as though their previous exchange had never occurred. She was promptly wrapped up in a bear hug courtesy of Ranka, who then slipped away to take a much-needed nap.

Stifling a yawn, Kyoya mentally prepared himself for a very,  _very_ long day.

Tamaki had already gathered everyone in a huddle, and was dictating activities to raise their spirits in the following hours. Kyoya wanted nothing more to introduce his head to the nearest wall, but somebody had to act as damage control for this group of idiots. Without a single doubt in his mind, he was certain he'd be bullied into hosting a sleepover for them all.

Kyoya couldn't blame them for their concern, and after all was said and done, his father had been the one to suggest that they spend the night.

As if he had a choice.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Kyoya found himself standing in the kitchen of a familiar apartment, sparsely furnished, but undeniably the same. Low light spilled in through the windows, casting haunting shadows and illuminating the oddly enchanting dance of dust through the air. Cocking his head, he made his way into the hallway, scanning the mantelpiece for any familiar pictures.

Loud crunching underfoot drew his attention, and he was surprised to discover the floor littered with glass. They caught the light and winked at him, some stained a deep red. A tangy, metallic scent laced the air.

His bare feet were sliced open and bleeding out, yet strangely, he felt no pain. Mildly confused, the boy picked his way through a clear path, and steadied himself against the nearest convenient wall. Hitching his leg upwards, his fingers dug deep into a gouge that spanned across the arch of his foot. Blood slicked his fingers, warm to the touch, and he pulled a rather large shard from the wound with a loud squelch. Kyoya's grip slipped several times, but after a mighty yank that tore through flesh, the glass was free.

He promptly tossed it to the side, a loud tinkling sounding as it smashed against the floor. A distant sense of disgust washed over him, but as quickly as it came, it disappeared.

Just like the wounds marring his skin, and the glass on the floor.

A muffled thumping snaked it's way into his consciousness, emanating directly from the walls. He pressed his ear against it, listening to the repetitive  _Ba-dum, ba-dum. Ba-dum._

A heartbeat.

There was blood running down the walls, he noted. The plaster in the ceiling slowly began to crack and collapse, causing big clouds of dust to billow upwards. Wind whistled through the apartment, shrill and deafening, a desperate scream for help.

The front door was cracked open.

Kyoya pushed it open and as met with darkness. Pure darkness.

A two handed shove sent him falling,

Falling,

Falling,

Into the abyss.

He twisted around mid air, and caught the tail end of outstretched hands retracting, before both they and the apartment dissipated into wisps of smoke.

The ground caught him in a hard embrace, leaving him disorientated and more than a little confused. And then all of a sudden he was on his feet and the sun was shining and it was a nice clear day, only everyone around him had pale faces and soulless pits for eyes, and the smoke was thick and heavy enough to wrap around his throat and choke him.

A familiar laugh graced his ears.

Turning instinctively, Kyoya as met with bright ochre orbs and a blinding smile. Haruhi caught his gaze and smiled.

The roar and crackle of nearby flames captured his attention, springing to life and swallowing the treeline whole.

Chaos.

Bodies pressed all around him, shoving and racing past, knocking him off balance. Haruhi was hidden from view, swept out of sight, even as he tried to crane his head up to see her. A sheep to the masses, he followed along mindlessly. He was brought crashing to his knees by heavy manacles, tight around his wrists and ankles. Struggling was fruitless, they rattled mockingly, and there was laughter, and it was  _her laughter_  but not hers at the same time. More like some kind of twisted mesh of sound that had his skin crawling.

Pressure against his throat had him stilling. Nails as sharp as knives pressed against the skin, hard enough to cause indents. He didn't dare move, didn't dare speak-

The smile had slipped from Haruhi's face. She was standing in exactly the same position as when he first saw her, staring off at something just to his left, pale and clearly too horrified to move.

"Haruhi?"

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

It was  _Takeda,_ oh god it was  _him,_ and she was right there and she wasn't even moving, why wasn't she moving, he was coming oh god he couldn't get free the chains were too tight and he was walking right up to her and she  _wasn't even moving-_

"Run!" He found himself screaming, hoarse and tight and oh so scared.

The smoke was hot and heavy and let an acrid taste on his tongue. The nails against his skin had tightened, and he gagged at the pressure, vision blurring from involuntary tears, and Haruhi still hadn't moved a muscle. Takeda reached out a hand, slowly, painfully slowly, almost seeming to tease Kyoya, who had abandoned all his pride and yelled until his airway was completely cut off.

The second Takeda made contact with her arm, Haruhi threw her head back and  _screamed,_ and even from where he was chained Kyoya could see the red indents burning into her skin. Burning flesh assaulted his senses, and he almost threw up right there and then. Gasping and retching, Kyoya fought against the force, ignoring how dark scratches trailed down his neck and beaded with blood. Red marks crisscrossed his skin as he dragged himself across the floor inch by inch. His eyes stung from a mixture of sweat and smoke and tears, nails clogged with dirt and mud, bleeding from when he caught them on rocks or twigs.

She was sobbing now, and the sound twisted like a knife in his gut.

The earth beneath him shattered, opening into a ravine. With a strangled scream he clung to the edge, fingers dug deep into the ground, feet kicking desperately for purchase.

Ahead of him Haruhi was screaming once again. Hand tangled in her hair, Takeda dragged the girl behind him, and she was kicking and fighting the whole way, eyes glassy with tears and staring straight through him. "Kyoya!" One hand was reached out towards him, desperately pleading for help.

Clawing manically against the pull of gravity, he slowly pulled himself upwards, spitting mud from his mouth and scrambling wildly when loose earth gave way under his weight. "I'm coming!" He assured, but he didn't sound very certain.

Eyes gleamed below him, from the very depths of the pit, leaving him paralysed and entirely helpless. The mangled hand gripping his ankle was unexpected, and had him flailing to keep rooted where he was, to keep fighting to reach Haruhi.

Clutching a clump of grass in his hand, Kyoya was dragged down, to maniacal laughter and the flickering image of soulless eyes and splattered blood, the accusation ringing in his ears-  _IT'S YOUR FAULT-_

And then steel eyes bolted open, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling of his room, heart thumping an erratic tango in his chest.

Several deep, shaky breaths ensued, but his eyes were stinging far too much to ignore, and his hands still fisted at his shirt, displaying all the emotions he was trying to keep pent up. Face pressed into his knees, he broke.

A particularly loud  _boom_  tossed him bodily back into reality.

Snatching his glasses off the table, Kyoya fumbled for the can of pepper spray in his drawer. It only occurred to him a good ten seconds or so later that he wasn't actually in any danger. Registering the rain lashing against his window and the sharp flash as lightning split the sky in two, Kyoya relaxed.

For about 0.25 seconds.

Kicking the sweaty covers off his legs, he dived from the bed and made his way into the corridor in record time. Another fork of lightning briefly illuminated the hallway, as well as the figure standing at the end of it, silhouetted in a flash of gold.

Heart lodged in his throat, Kyoya froze.

The intruder, on the other hand, did not.

"Kyo-chan?" Blinking in recognition, Kyoya ventured forward. Honey was standing outside of the room allocated to Haruhi, dressed in bunny-print pyjamas and looking rather tired. "Did the storm wake you up?"

Seeing as though Kyoya would rather down cyanide than willingly admit to the nightmare, the boy settled for a simple nod.

"It woke me and Haru-chan up, too." Honey continued, as Kyoya double checked that he had removed all traces from underneath his eyes. The small boy either didn't notice the action, or pretended not to. Either way, Kyoya was glad. "She was really scared, but she's okay now. I calmed her down and gave her Usa-chan and she fell asleep wearing Hika-chan's headphones, so you don't have to worry."

Like Hell he wasn't going to.

But Kyoya trusted the boy, and if he said Haruhi was fine, then he wouldn't go bursting in to check for himself.

"Right. Thank you, Honey-senpai." He rubbed his hand across his neck, awkwardly. "I guess I'll head off. I'll see you in the morning."

He heard a soft parting from the older boy, before he disappeared down the corridor, shivering at the cold. Sweat still dampened his skin, and the night air was cool and crisp, not entirely unpleasant, but enough to raise goosebumps up and down his arms.

Glancing out a passing window, he felt his breath catch at the darkness that greeted him. In the glass, his dead eyes stared back. Damn, he really did look awful. Quite frankly, his state was more than a little depressing. Lips twitching upwards, the motion felt foreign, and the result was both pathetic and terrifying, like the smirk of an axe-murderer on a killing spree.

Cringing, he shook his head and moved on.

Bare-footed, his steps made no sound across carpeted floors. By now, he knew the location of every creaky step, navigating his way down the staircase with years of practise. The house was silent. He relished the fleeting moments of peace in the midst of such chaos.

Even then, he couldn't have felt more isolated. The early hours were always a bitter pill to swallow, reminding him of just how alone he was.

But, after having spent many a day in his childhood walking hand-in-hand with loneliness, he greeted it much like one would an old friend; with open arms and acceptance.

God, he needed coffee. He needed a cold hard slap to the face to keep him awake. He needed life to stop kicking him down a well. Recently, all he seemed to be doing was clawing his way out, only for all his efforts to go to waste as he ended up right back where he started. Really, he just needed this all to be over.

And not only for his sake.

The others were suffering just as much as him.

And he couldn't even begin to compare his suffering to that of Haruhi's, who had lost her home, her freedom, her confidence. Left to rely on others, to sacrifice who she was in order to live another day.

He hated it all.

Haruhi had been dealt a loaded pistol by society, yet even refusing to fire it rebounded on her.

Flicking the lights on, he shielded his eyes against the bright glare, waiting a moment for them to adjust. In that time, he registered the sound of someone moving towards him, steps purposely loud as if they knew he was there and were making certain he heard them over the storm. Honey skipped in through the door, brighter than he should be at this ungodly hour.

"I felt like having some warm milk." He explained, with a smile. "Do you want me to make you some, too?"

Honestly somewhat bewildered, Kyoya merely nodded. "Sure. That would be nice."

Chatting away, Honey poured milk into two glasses and shoved them in the microwave to warm them. Kyoya didn't question how he seemed to know where everything was. Instead, he settled himself atop one of the counters in the Island, and tried to rub the heat back into his arms. Smile turning sympathetic, Honey tilted his head towards the boy. "Did you have a nightmare, Kyo-chan?"

The instant, overwhelming instinct to deny it almost consumed him. But Honey was observing him so knowingly, Kyoya knew it wouldn't do him any good. "I suppose." He admitted, and held his head high, because if he was anything, a coward wasn't it.

"Relax." Honey advised, handing over the beverage.

There was always so much subtext with Honey. That one word conveyed so much. Relax-  _because you're safe now, because you're not alone, because it can't hurt you,_ it was all left unsaid, because they both knew Kyoya was excellent at reading between the lines.

The blond hopped up onto the opposite counter, and the two of them quietly sipped their drinks. Honey was swinging his feet lazily. Kyoya's were up, resting on the smooth surface, allowing him to rest the bottom of his mug against his knees. And, quite gradually, the other boy started humming. It was an unconscious thing, noise to fill the space between them. Shockingly, Kyoya… Didn't mind. He welcomed the comfort, the normality of the action. The tune was familiar, like an old lullaby from years ago.

He trailed off far too soon, legs still moving back and forth.

"How's she holding up?"

Honey's gaze was calm, dissecting every inch of his face. Of course he was worried, Haruhi was distant, seemingly lost inside herself. Kyoya thought back to how she'd squeezed his hand, and the strain in her smile. "Better than I thought she would, but naturally she's still hurting."

Honey hummed an acknowledgement. "And how are you doing?"

Kyoya blinked. A crash of thunder sounded overhead.

The older boy filled the silence with an innocent sip of his drink, perfectly casual. After a moment, Kyoya shrugged. "I'm as good as can be expected."

Fighting the feeling of being judged, Kyoya distracted himself with his own drink, content for this conversation to be over and done with. Honey, however, seemed to have other ideas. "Your eyes are red."

_Fuck._

He tucked his legs in a little tighter, unwilling to commit at any verbal response. Outside, the rain grew more intense, pounding violently against the windows. Clearly recognising that this line of questioning wouldn't get him anywhere, Honey pretended as though Kyoya hadn't just blatantly ignored him. "You're not going to go back to sleep, are you?"

Of course he wasn't.

And that wasn't entirely by choice, either.

He couldn't handle seeing that again. Not now, not ever.

"No, I'm not." There was no use lying. The way he was now, Honey would spot it from a mile away. Normally Kyoya would call himself quiet adapt at spinning half-truths and little white lies. But that was then, and this was now. And right now, if he even dared, Honey would shoot him that pitying  _I-Know-You-Just-Lied-To-Me-And-I'm-Going-To-Pretend-To-Believe-It_ look. "I'll probably stay up and read until morning."

Dropping his empty mug into the sink, Honey bluntly said, "Is that code for working?"

Kyoya fought back his amusement, and settled for a weary smile. "Usually, yes. But under duress, I gave everything to Tachibana earlier today. If he were to discover that I was still investigating, I'd probably lose more than my research."

Evidently appeased, the blond softened, patting the only accessible feature, that being Kyoya's knee. "Don't let it get to you. And at least try to get some sleep tonight. Kay?"

Kyoya didn't say a word, preferring to not make promises he couldn't keep. Even after Kyoya had drained his own mug, he stayed where he was, just staring through the kitchen window, watching the world pass by. The storm raged on outside, lightning flashing occasionally. He only moved once the cold became too much to bear, traipsing back in the direction of the rooms, readying himself for another sleepless night.

He was still awake when dawn rolled in, and with that sick sense of crushing realisation that only students could have, he remembered that it was Monday.

_Fuck._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for anxiety everyone 
> 
> Kyoya gets a much-needed hug, and Honey once again proves to be more intelligent than everyone gives him credit for


	19. Fate Really Is The Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruhi attempts to have a good day, to which the universe laughs in her face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sexual Assault   
> I've marked the area, please stay safe, guys!

Haruhi awoke to the force of a small human leaping onto the bed next to her. Thankfully this cretin did not land directly on her stomach, for she feared that their feet would slice right through her, into the bed, and cement themselves into the floorboards beneath her.

With a thousand megawatt grin bright enough to beat her retinas into blindness, Honey shoved his face right into her personal space. "Morning, Haru-chan!" The words had a lilting sing-song tone to them, and were severely muffled by the fat ass headphones she had covering her ears. Luckily, Haruhi was quite adept at lip reading, a skill that gave her far too much power, which she freely abused.

"Good morning, Honey-senpai." She returned pleasantly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Knee bouncing erratically, he reached forward and gently slipped the headphones down around her neck, and she was instantly assaulted by noise.

Snapping her head in the direction of the open door, Haruhi gaped. "What-"

"Hika-chan is panicking about his headphones." Honey said, innocently. "I tried to tell him that you had them, but I don't think he heard me."

Of course.

Biting back a groan, Haruhi stepped out of bed. The air was cool, and she'd much rather have the extra couple of minutes to lie in the warmth, contemplating the big Reason To Exist, but putting a stop to Hikaru's rampage was probably a higher priority.

_Probably._

Honey skipped along beside her, having collected Usa-chan from where she was hidden by the pools of covers. The stuffed toy had been incredibly soft, and Haruhi only hoped she hadn't drooled on her during the night. He didn't seem at all fazed, and Haruhi was honestly surprised the small boy was even awake and functioning at this hour. Hadn't Tamaki made a big deal about how Honey and Kyoya were notoriously cranky risers?

Then again, Tamaki was a dramatic little shit, so she had severe doubts about how credible his information really was.

Shrugging to herself, she ducked out through the doorway, and almost immediately retreated.

An  _extremely_ cranky Kyoya was glaring poisonously at Hikaru, who was heaving for breath and quite possibly foaming at the mouth. Kaoru, utterly innocent for once in his life, was cowering at his twin's side. Both seemed too scared to even move. Considering how feral Kyoya was, Haruhi didn't blame them.

Popping his head around her legs, Honey deadpanned a quiet "Uh-Oh." which just about summed up the situation perfectly.

Before any daggers could be thrown, metaphorical or literal, Haruhi emerged, hands held in a peacemaking gesture. Honey was content to follow, though his steps held a little less bounce than before. Apparently he had the sense not to draw too much attention to himself.

"Hikaru, you're looking for this, right?"

She placed the headphones around his neck, absently straightening them when the arms fell crooked over his collarbone. Amber eyes went from hazy to focused in a single second. He almost headbutted her at the speed he glanced down, hand flying upwards to check the condition of his most treasured possession.

Haruhi watched the display with her hands on her hips, catching the exact moment the boy relaxed, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"There was a storm last night," She explained, without any hesitation. Part of her distantly realised she was bodily tossing Honey straight under the bus, but the words were out before she had adequate time to process them. "Honey-senpai gave them to me so I wouldn't hear the thunder."

A sharpened gaze snapped to the blond at her side.

The said boy scuffed his foot against the ground, peering up shyly. "I'm sorry for taking them, Hika-chan. I was only trying to help." He bowed his head low, sincerely. "I should have asked first, but I didn't want to wake you up. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

Rubbing a hand down the back of his neck, Hikaru exhaled, blowing stray locks of hair off his forehead as he did so. "It's okay, Honey-senpai. I'm not mad." His eyes screamed  _LIES._ "I'm just glad Haruhi was alright in the end."

Dusting her hands off, Haruhi turned to address the next problem.

She was faced with an empty corridor, and almost suffered a face-fault at the immediate whiplash. Kyoya had channelled his inner ninja, it seemed, for he had vanished into thin air.

Sighing, she followed the three boys down and had what was quite possibly the loudest, craziest breakfast to date. Haruhi was surprised nobody ended up with a fork shoved through their larynx. It looked like Kyoya was considering it, at one point, between almost falling asleep in his breakfast and startling at every loud sound. (Apparently he hadn't disappeared off the face of the Earth, and instead had slinked off to eat without them. Or,  _pretend_ to eat, that is).

And then there was the mad shuffle to prepare before school. Somehow Tamaki ended up with Hikaru's uniform jacket, which the two squabbled over for several painstaking minutes until Mori stepped in.

Haruhi could already feel a headache coming along.

A tug on her sleeve had her glancing down. It was Honey, practically vibrating with excitement. Haruhi would have been concerned about the state of the floor if she had any concern left to spare around gaping over how  _giant his eyes were._ The sheer size of his blinking, doe-like stare was almost preternatural.

(Maybe Yasuchika was right all along. Maybe Honey really was an alien).

"Hey, Haru-chan! How about we go out for cake after school? You need something sweet to make you feel better after that storm last night, and what's better than a slice of cake? What do you say, will you come with me?"

Haruhi stared for a good couple of seconds.

In response, Honey's eyes  _somehow_ managed to grow  _even larger,_ and his bottom lip protruded in a small pout.

It was then and there that Haruhi realised that her opinion on the matter was more of a formality than anything. Apparently, she was going out for cake whether she liked it or not.

"Sure, Honey-senpai." She said, finally. "That sounds great."

He beamed, throwing his arms around her with an excited squeal. Haruhi patted his back, goodnaturedly rolling her eyes. Eighteen years old and he could still sway an entire room with one fake tear.

God, she was a weak ass bitch.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Somehow, Haruhi managed to last throughout the day.

She made notes in class, she ignored the twins and their many,  _many_ distractions, she forgot about everything.

For a while, at least.

Distantly, the cold ice of fear occupied a far corner of her mind, occasionally creeping closer. Whenever her breath caught in her throat, or she felt a heartbeat too heavy thump in her chest, she'd force her weight down through her heels and breathe deeply, exhaling all her worries in one slow, meditative burst. It grounded her, left her feeling more in control, and she needed that.

She really did.

Then lunch rolled around. Haruhi was promptly seized by the arms and dragged forcefully into what passed for a cafeteria in this ridiculous school, but was actually more like a 5 star restaurant. (Not that she especially knew what one of those looked like, she just assumed they'd both share the same quality of being extra as fuck).

Hoping for a relatively peaceful moment in all this craziness, Haruhi settled down.

Peace never really lasted for along around these idiots.

Take, for example, the resident Shadow King and his counterpart of incessant sparkles and sunshine.

Something she'd noticed about Kyoya was that he was rather fond of certain routines. Though, that wasn't to say that Kyoya was inflexible in any way. If anything, he could certainly be relied upon to be adaptable, which, with their friendship group, definitely came in handy.

Without Kyoya, half of the Host Club would probably be dead by now.

Herself included, actually.

Before everything went to Hell, and the days dragged by in one big blur, Kyoya would wake up, and leave to arrive for school at exactly the same time every day. He was punctual, perfectly on time for every lesson, and had a meal plan for the entire week, which he followed vigorously. (One time, Tamaki had jokingly compared him to a grumpy old man. In return, Kyoya 'accidentally' tripped him up in the hallway later that day).

Today, Monday, would normally be a delicate pork dish, with a dribbling of some tangy sauce she couldn't quite name and finely cut vegetables, all plated to perfection and mouth-wateringly appetising. Recently he'd started losing his appetite near the end, and would push the plate at her to finish.

He wasn't at all slick, and she could see his true intentions from a mile away, but she humoured the boy anyway. It was rather uncharacteristic of him to show his sweet side so openly, so she did feel a little touched.

And it was also because she wanted the food.

… It was mainly for the food, really.

Instead, a bowl of soup occupied the table directly before him, and by the vicious scowl he was shooting at Tamaki, the change evidently hadn't been his decision.

Considering the blond had literally jumped on his back to clamp his hands over Kyoya's mouth, Haruhi was honestly surprised that Tamaki was still all in one piece.

(Kyoya had flinched harder than she'd ever seen, and it must have taken all of his willpower not to immediately freak the  _fuck_ out and toss him into the salad garnishing. It was indeed an impressive display of self-restraint, although she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed for being denied such golden comedy).

Alas, with the right of speech revoked, Tamaki ordered from the both of them, and then hopped down, as if it were perfectly normal to mount your best friend in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. The female attendee barely batted an eyelash, and rung in their order without hesitating. Haruhi figured that her lack of reaction was a testament to the shit that usually happened in their crazy, rich-ass school. She also figured that lady deserved a raise.

(Hell, at the point Haruhi figured that she herself should be paid for dealing with all this crap on a daily basis).

Now lumped with the soup Haruhi knew he absolutely didn't want, Kyoya had finally stopped boring holes through Tamaki's quivering frame, and was idly tracing a finger around the lip of the bowl. He hadn't even attempted to eat anything yet, and Haruhi was quite honestly a hair's breadth away from throwing herself to her knees and begging him to just pick up the damn spoon.

He did, and she just about screamed her prayers up to the heavens. Raising it to his lips, he glanced up and caught her eyes, automatically pausing. Tilting his head just the slightest amount, he cocked a brow, confused and a little amused, a silent question forming on his lips.

Haruhi merely smiled back, which seemed to ease his suspicions well enough. Turning her attention elsewhere, she tuned into the heated debate between the twins and a passionate Honey about what species of bear was the cutest. Which… was hardly even a debate at all, and more a spat over which one of them deserved to like polar bears the most.

Distantly, she wondered whether it was worth pointing out that they could all like the same animal just as much as each other.

One look at the spoon Honey was wildly gesturing with made her rethink her involvement. Mori seemed to agree with her, for his lips quirked up the tiniest amount, listening as the debacle unfolded with exasperation bordering heavily on amusement. (Tamaki had slid down in his seat until he was just barely peeking over the table, deciding that for once he was going to shut his mouth in order to continue living past these next five minutes. It was a smart decision).

For what certainly wouldn't be the last time, Haruhi wondered how Mori had managed to retain his sanity for this long. But then his eyes swept over the chaos with an expression that was more suited to one of the twins- the classic  _time to make everything worse_ look that had her stomach sinking.

Haruhi shook her head desperately. Oh lord above please no.

"Pandas." He deadpanned, and the table just about rioted.

She really needed some normal friends.

Kyoya, more regal that he deserved to be at this moment in time, ignored the chaos and chowed down. It was enough to stop her from wanting to self-induce concussion to escape this torture.

Using her foot to lightly prod his leg, Haruhi nudged until Kyoya looked up at her. He was clearly in another reality altogether, a kind of clouded look in his eyes, but the quirk at his lips evidence of the smile he was trying to conceal. "Yes?" He queried, continuing to sip at his soup like the refined little shit he was.

"Honey-senpai is taking me out for cake after school, so don't wait around for me."

Tamaki had apparently been dragged into the fray, if his loud whines were anything to go by. After a second of disturbed staring, Kyoya's distracted gaze flicked back over to her. "That's nice." He said, becoming increasingly more done by the second.

Smiling, Haruhi leaned forward in her seat. "Did you even hear what I just said?"

With a sigh, Kyoya held up an apologetic hand. "Do excuse me for a second. I need to take out the trash." Summoning his most frosty, fake ass grin, Kyoya clocked the other hosts. "Enthralling as this conversation may be, you happen to be disturbing everyone dining nearby. Need I remind you all that we are supposed to set good examples of behaviour for the rest of the student body, considering we have a club to run, and _\- Hikaru if you dare throw that spoon we will not hold cosplays for a_  month _._ "

A collective gulp sounded.

The appalled look on Hikaru's face as the spoon was swiftly dropped had Haruhi smirking.

Expression perfectly neutral, Kyoya turned back around.

"You act more like their mother sometimes." She remarked, lightly.

Kyoya pinched the bridge of his nose. "I pity their mothers."

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Kyoya, of course, immediately forgot literally everything she had told him at lunch.

Considering his lack of engagement, she wasn't really surprised by the revelation, otherwise she would have been more than a little insulted.

"Where are you going?"

Her amusement was openly displayed on her face, which evidently disturbed the boy more than a little. The grip on her upper arm went from completely lax, to unconsciously tighter, the motion a kind of anxious flex of his hand. "We talked about this earlier, remember? I'm going with Honey-senpai. To get cake."

Doing a pretty shitty job at concealing his confusion, Kyoya's hand became slack, and then released her altogether. For a moment, pure silence reigned. And then, with the air of fine bullshit that only someone who was desperately trying to cover up the fact that they had no absolutely clue about what was happening, Kyoya nodded slowly. "Ah, yes, of course. I remember now, you did mention that. It must have just slipped my mind."

Taking pity on the boy and his poor excuse for acting, Haruhi merely smiled. "That's perfectly understandable, senpai. It happens to the best of us."

The sour lemon reaction to her words almost had her laughing out loud. Kyoya seemed affronted at the very idea that he was anything less than a perfect being. Ignoring the blow to his ego, the boy absently smoothed down some wrinkles in his shirt. "Well, don't go crazy, you'll spoil your dinner."

Haruhi levelled him with a blank stare. "You really are a mother, senpai."

"I'm merely showing concern for your health. Would you rather I encourage you to develop Type II diabetes from this experience?"

"Honestly, yes."

Kyoya shook his head, a smile forming no matter how much fought against it. "As you wish. Please go forth and continue on your trip towards an unholy sugar rush. I really, truly envy you right now." As ever, he delivered his speech in utter deadpan, finishing with a sarcastic bow.

Haruhi curtseyed back, and was promptly spun by her shoulders and given a gentle push in the direction of Honey, who was patiently waiting by his car. She smiled over her shoulder, catching the kind of softness in Kyoya's expression that he would vehemently deny until the day he died.

(She never expected it to be so freaking  _easy._ Fully preparing herself for a major throwdown, she had a hard time concealing her surprise. Any other day and he'd be fighting a heart attack at the news. Of course, even if Kyoya said no, she'd flip him off and go anyway, because he'd be a fool if he ever thought he could control her).

Honey talked her ear off for the entire car journey, but she didn't especially mind. He was bright, energetic, his endless energy grabbed her problems by the throat and tossed them into the distance, somewhere so far she needn't focus on them, because she was  _safe_ and  _whole_ and  _normal_ for these few precious hours.

The cake, she discovered, was delicious.

One slice also cost more than her entire food budget for a week, which was likely the reason why Honey was so adamant about her not looking too hard at the menu.

Still, it tasted like something crafted from the heavens, and that at least she could appreciate. Even if it was ridiculously overpriced, Haruhi was definitely savouring every single bite. Honey, on the other hand, practically inhaled an entire cake in the blink of an eye. One moment the diabetes-on-a-plate was standing proud and tall, the next she was staring at nothing.

"Do you want another slice, Haru-chan?" Honey had frosting all around his mouth as he smiled toothily at her.

"I'm alright, Honey-senpai. But you can have some more, if you want." She amended, when she sensed an incoming pout. The suggestion appeared to appease him, for no crocodile tears were shed. Haruhi sighed inwardly, relieved at the near-miss.

"It tastes good, doesn't it?"

Haruhi couldn't keep the smile off her face. "I thought it would be too sweet, but it's actually pretty nice."

Honey nodded sagely, shovelling in a mouthful of what looked like a chocolate and lime cheesecake. "It's not good to be stressed. Takashi always brings me cake and Usa-chan when I'm not feeling happy, so I thought it would make you happy too." The statement is both innocent, and almost calculated. She has a strange feeling that he is gauging her reaction, and he probably is. "Plus it's nice to hang out like this, right, Haru-chan? It feels a lot more relaxed."

That, she can most definitely agree with.

Recently, an sinking sort of tension snaked into conversations, settling heavily in the silences, and wrapping tight tendrils around throats. It had breath catching, tongue stuttering over words. It brought hesitation, and a wariness that had her stomach knotting with unease.

Their fear was dormant, a loose wire in a circuit. The current would flow, briefly, electrifying their senses and there would be panic, oh so much panic, and then the realisation that they were safe, that there was no immediate danger would hit like a sack of bricks.

She liked not being scared.

Another part of her was clawing at her brain, stripping it away in perfect little ribbons of flesh. Being  _alright_ after feeling so shit for so long just felt  _wrong._ At this point, that simple luxury felt like something that wasn't meant for  _her._

"Yeah." She agreed, eventually. "Thank you for bringing me here, I needed this. It's really pretty too- I can see why you'd so much."

The interior design exuded warmth- dark wood panelling on the floors and furnishing the seats, lined with soft, plush cushioning of a deep jade green. The booths were cosy, separated with lattice dividers that were elegant and smooth, the lighting soft and inviting.

Candles flickered from within delicate holders, and the light danced when Honey flicked the metal, sending it spinning in fast circles that had patterns flashing up on the wood behind her.

When she looked back, Honey was beaming. "It's even better at Christmas! They have all these shiny lights up, and there's a biiiiig Christmas tree with all these decorations, and they light the fireplace in the middle there. It looks like a fairy tale!"

Haruhi doesn't dispute that.

It really did sound wonderful, and if the pricing had been more reasonable, she'd definitely frequent this little cafe more often.

"There's a shrine in my neighbourhood that holds a festival at Christmas- I should take you guys this year. I suppose it's better than getting dragged along whenever Tamaki-senpai inevitably finds out about it." Haruhi mused, chin resting on her hand. "There's all kinds of stalls and games, and there are normally fireworks afterwards. You'll like it."

Honey, of course, was ecstatic. He almost thrust his pinky straight through her eye as he demanded for a pinky promise that she'd really definitely take them, which she obliged. Someday she'd learn not to get too far over her head. This was not that day.

"Will there be goldfish scooping?"

Tapping a finger against her chin, Haruhi wracked her brain. "I think so." She said, hesitantly. "I didn't go last year, but I remember there were a few shooting games, if you're interested in that. I have the perfect spot for watching the fireworks as well, so that should be fun. They're always so pretty, even if they're a bit loud."

Honey cocked his head, gentle and sweet all at once. "I'm sure Hika-chan wouldn't mind you borrowing his headphones. If you need to."

"Yeah." She agreed, with a light smile. "I'll have to ask him."

She had people she could depend on. Sometimes it was hard to remember that.

The blond finished off another two slices of cake, before they paid and headed out into rich sunshine and a gentle breeze.

Across the street stood a bookstore, and it was the most majestic fucking thing Haruhi had ever  _seen._

Honey caught her staring, if his mischievous little grin was anything to go by. Hands tucked behind his back, swinging on his heels, the boy looked awfully smug. "Do you want to explore, Haru-chan?"

She gnawed absently on the bottom of her lip, fighting the temptation to nod. Eventually the urge won out, and she turned shining eyes on the older boy. "Yes."

"Go." He encouraged, and Haruhi had to stop herself from throwing her arms around him. How could he understand so much, and yet need to say so little? "You have five minutes on your own, okay? Five minutes. Keep your phone on so I can call you." He shook his finger at her, stern but so like a child imitating an adult that it came across more cute than anything.

"Five minutes." Haruhi echoed, almost giddy. "You're really going to let me go?"

Honey tilted his head. "Why wouldn't I?"

With that, Honey pirouetted on his heels and skipped away, Usa-chan swinging from his hand. She didn't particularly know what he was planning on doing, but she appreciated this small freedom nonetheless. Wise beyond his age, Honey was well aware of how much this  _normality_ was necessary.

She was  _fifteen_ for god's sake, she should be able to cross the street without her own personal escort. After being practically joined at the hip with Kyoya for the past couple of months, she needed to become re-accustomed with doing things alone.

A strange twist of loneliness curled in her stomach, but it was quickly stifled by pure, child-like  _excitement._

She was getting to  _explore._

On her  _own._

When was the last time she'd been able to do  _anything_ by herself?

She couldn't remember, and that alone was enough to bring a grin to her face.

That was until a hand curled around her upper arm and pulled her down the street, towards the main road. The contact was firm, and held a vague tremor. Guilt pooled in her gut, and instantly her eyes averted to the ground.

Shit.

_Shit._

_Of course Kyoya would be there._

_He must be pissed._

Biting her lip, she chanced a quick peek up, expecting to see grey eyes clouded with poorly concealed worry, and that typical constipated knot between his brows.

Instead, her mouth dried out. Like at the dentist with a suction tube, it left her breathless and winded and feeling all inside-out.

Because it wasn't Kyoya.

Oh god,  _it wasn't Kyoya at all._

With that sickening sense of horror, Haruhi froze. Her heels dug into the ground, but it was barely even a hindrance. She stumbled, and was pulled forward against her will, slipping as she attempted to halt her progress towards a nearby car. The hand tightened, and she winced from the pressure.

"Let me go!" She demanded, finally finding her voice.

Takeda glanced at her. He looked positively  _manic,_ like an axe murderer on a killing spree. "It's alright, Naomi. I'll get you out of here."

The yell tore from her throat unwillingly, strangled and broken as she fought to twist herself out from his grip.  _Make noise,_ a shaky voice that sounded suspiciously like Kyoya ordered,  _make as much noise as you can, draw attention to yourself! You have to fight, Haruhi. Fight!_

"No!" She was screaming now, and a part of her as painfully embarrassed, but god nothing was  _working_ and at least this way maybe somebody would help her, oh god somebody  _please help her._  "Let go of me! I don't want to go  _anywhere_ with you! I don't know you!"

She tried to fight, she  _really, really did._

But if Kyoya couldn't fight him off then what could she possibly do?

It was like warding off a freight train, an impossible task that would only end in tears and pain. In no time at all she was hurried into the back of the car, still screaming and kicking for all she was worth. Heads had turned her way, and the twittering was almost deafening. A young woman shoved her toddler into the arms of a nearby mother, and led a brave charge forward, but she was too late _._

She was  _too late._

The car took off, Takeda gripping the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

She was  _fucked,_ she was so fucked.

Her trembling hands found her phone and switched it on silent, jamming the device into some dark crevice where she hoped Takeda wouldn't find it.

_Why._

Why did this have to  _happen?_

Why couldn't she just be  _normal?_

The question was more of a plea, a desperate cry from a scared child.

She knew why.

Deep down, she knew. Because  _safety_ and  _happiness_  just wasn't for her. She deserved this, this  _misery_  and constant fear. Because she brought this on herself, and this was how it was always meant to be.

The thought had her choking back a sob.

Takeda turned at the noise, placing a hand on her knee that was far too gentle, and had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "You're safe." He assured softly, but Haruhi had never felt any less safe in her entire life.

In retrospect, the drive wasn't very long.

To Haruhi, an aeon passed before Takeda pulled up at the curb, the whole structure shuddering as his front wheel mounted the pavement. She mentally debated whether or not it was worth making a run for it. Takeda was tall but weed-like, weak from a lack of personal care.

Of course, her brain provided the necessary counter argument that Haruhi herself was slow as shit. The only conceivable conclusion to  _that_ situation would with her in chains and Takeda laughing at her piece of crap escape attempt.

A hand on the small of her back guided her into the house. Her skin crawled from the contact, and she wanted nothing more than to tear herself away.

The manic energy had disappeared, replaced with pure glee. It would have been heartbreaking if she hadn't been so terrified. "Do you remember, Naomi? This is our house."

Her tongue was heavy and awkward in her mouth. She couldn't talk even if she wanted to.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the noise echoed in her head.

Trapped.

That was what she was.

She was trapped her- with this  _psycho._

(And, in that moment, Haruhi was certain she was going to die).

Takeda hadn't found her phone, at least. Kyoya would be able to track it, and that was enough of a relief to her. He'd find her.

_If he even cared about her in the first place._

"It must be fate," Takeda breathed, reverently. "Fate let me find you again- fate lead me to you today. It's the only explanation. I missed you so much, Naomi. I missed you  _so much._ "

Fate was a bitch, Haruhi decided. A stone cold bitch who obviously had some kind of vendetta against her. God, was  _existing_ such a crime to whatever fucked up higher power there was? Why did they have to torture her like this?

_(Because she deserved it. She always has, and she knows it, too)._

He smiled, and pulled her on a tour of the house. It was dusty in places, enough that she wrinkled her nose up in disgust. But she followed, obediently, the hand on her back a reminder that she didn't have the power here and it was useless to pretend that she did.

God, she was  _weak._ She was so  _weak._

_(She let this happen. This was her own fault)._

As soon as she could, Haruhi escaped from his presence. The kitchen was clean and pleasant enough, and that was a small relief in this shitshow. Bracing her hands against the smooth marble, she tried to catch her breath.

The weight on her chest was crushing, squeezing at her lungs each time she tried to take a breath. It was like she was forcing herself into a space a little too tight, twisting and edging backwards until she was shoulders up and suffocated on all sides. She forced her weight through her heels, feeling the way she was tethered to the floor, imagining great, strong roots spreading out beneath her, gold running from the tips of her toes and all the way up with every slow, measured breath.

She could almost pretend that she was safe and at home. Maybe with Kyoya. Maybe surrounded by everyone else.

But she could pretend she was somewhere warm and loving, where she didn't have to be scared.

And, for a moment, she almost believed it herself.

Of course, peace  _never_ lasted for long.

Not for her.

**/... /**

Warm arms encircled her from behind.

She hadn't even heard the door open.

Flinching, Haruhi spun around, and backed herself against the counter to try and escape his embrace. He didn't care, or maybe he simply didn't notice her discomfort, although pinning someone against furniture generally isn't considered polite.

"I missed you, Naomi." He murmured, softly pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It'll be okay now-" The lips moved to her cheek, right on the corner of her mouth. "We can start a family again. Everything will be just like before." Another butterfly kiss, this time against her jaw.

His smile was bright, eye alight with life. He stooped down to rest his forehead against hers, thumb gently caressing her cheek. "I'm sorry it took so long, but you don't have to be scared anymore. We're together again, now. That's all that matters."

Haruhi swallowed, trying to force down the lump that had risen in her throat.

_Endure it._ Another sharp inhale as his lips found hers, body tensing up in disgust.  _Just endure it. Kyoya must be on his way by now. Just wait a little bit longer._

Despite all her hope, he didn't stop his advances. The world shifted abruptly as he lifted her onto the counter, never ceasing the passionate attack against her mouth. Her attempt at leaning back as far as she could is in vain, it only allowed him further access to her jaw and neck.

_Endure it. Don't resist- it'll just make him mad. Make him mad and he could make you dead._

(Maybe she deserved to be dead).

His teeth skimmed her flesh, and she yelped, startled. He merely chuckled, a low rumble in the back of his throat, nipping playfully once more, and maybe he thought she was enjoying herself, but Haruhi had never felt more sick in her entire life.

"You're so beautiful."

(It didn't feel like a compliment from him. Grey eyes flashed to mind, a little curl of familiar lips, voice so soft and earnest and-  _it wasn't for her._  That perfection wasn't something she could have).

The hands against her waist travelled upwards, underneath her shirt, the unexpected cold making her shiver.

_Endure it._ She repeated, blinking back the moisture from her eyes. His fingers traced patterns over her back, playing with the material of her sports bra.  _Endure it. Don't make him mad- don't make him mad, Haruhi. Don't make him-_

But then his hands dipped underneath that last barrier, cupping her breasts and she couldn't endure it anymore. She jerked away, and smacked her head against one of the wall-mounted cabinets. He must have misinterpreted her reaction for pleasure, for he continued to tease them.

"Stop." She managed to gasp out, trying to turn her head away from him, to break the pressure of his kiss. "Stop it."

He hushed her, and removed his hands to lightly capture her face. "It's okay now," He whispered. "You're with me. You're safe."

(She wasn't safe. She  _wasn't)._

And then his hands went for her trousers, and something in her mind snapped.

**/... /**

All of a sudden her hands were slick with blood, and he was screaming, clutching the wound on his leg.

She didn't even remember picking up the knife.

It lay embedded in his thigh, winking in the light, and then she was running. She was  _running,_  her ankle throbbing horribly from landing awkwardly.

She tried to push the door open, jiggling the handle and throwing her body against it as hard as she dared, but it didn't give way. Fighting a whimper, she scrambled for the stairs and as she was slamming the door of the first room she came across behind her, she remembered that the front door opened inwards.

_She was such a goddamn idiot._

Maybe there was an exit in this room.

Haruhi glanced around, hopeful, and that's when it hit her.

His bedroom.

She'd ran straight into his bedroom.

If he found her- if he caught her-

Bile crawled up her throat.

She threw up in a nearby bin, acid burning a loving path on sensitive skin, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

Below, Takeda was yelling for her, blinded with pain, sobbing past it. The creak of his slow, agonised footsteps on the stairs set her in a frenzy. With much difficulty, she pushed the dresser to block the door, fingers cramped and sore from the pressure, leaving an angry cut across her arm from where she'd caught it on the side.

The pain hit her hard, magnified somehow by the roar of blood in her eyes and the rush of colours swirling before her eyes.

In that moment, she felt more present, more  _real_ than she had in a long time.

And, once she had processed this, Haruhi realised she didn't want to be real anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happeNING FINALLY


	20. Important Information: He’s Not Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoya wasn't sunshine and kindness like Tamaki, and mercy to whichever unfortunate soul invited his wrath.

One of the most simple pleasures in life, Kyoya found, was sharing a space with someone and not being required to talk. The silence was strangely refreshing, intermittent with the soft scratching of pen against paper, or the quiet turning of pages. There were no expectations. No judgement. Just... companionship. Being with each other for the sheer sake of it.

The concept was mind-boggling at first, alien even.

Now? Not so much.

Somewhere far behind them, the windows were thrown wide open; with the subtle sound of birdsong and whispering wind.

At his side, Tamaki shifted. Kyoya's feet slipped from their position against his thigh as the boy stretched, before easily reasserting themselves. Lips pursed in concentration, Tamaki tapped his pen against his chin, lost in his own world.

A breeze gently meandered past, hair swaying in a pleasant array of blond, soft gold and honey, the pages of Kyoya's book rustling from its perch on his knees. Muted piano music drifted in lazy eddy's from Tamaki's phone, which at some point had slipped between the cracks of the many textbooks adorning the table in an entirely unsatisfying reenactment of 127 hours.

Eyes sliding shut, Kyoya allowed his head to roll back, lolling to the side to rest against the plush couch.

His peace was shattered by the pricking sensation of eyes on him, and that damned smile he knew Tamaki was wearing.

"What?" He asked, lightly.

The first audible word he'd uttered in almost an hour.

Tamaki's smile brightened, the sound of a soft piano melody. Kyoya had yet to even look. He just  _knew_.

"Nothing." Was the reply he received, delivered in the boy's typical sing-song lilt and bursting with life. When Kyoya cracked an eye open, Tamaki's features had softened into a kind of private joy. "I'm just happy to see you so relaxed. It's nice."

Kyoya dug his foot into Tamaki's leg, and closed his eyes once more. There was a chuckle, and the crack of his back as Tamaki slouched back over his textbook, undeterred by the lack of a reply.

"You look younger." Tamaki said, suddenly. Kyoya's hope of this conversation passing vanished faster than his will to live. "Like the age you are. It suits you a lot more, you know."

_Like the age you are._

_Instead of the adult you're always trying to be._

Ignoring the twist in his stomach, Kyoya felt his lip twitch upwards. "Are you implying I usually look old?"

Tamaki pondered for a moment, almost certainly with his thumb tucked under his chin. A triumphant huff, and then his fist lightly smacked down on his open palm. "Well, your grumpy old man demeanour certainly doesn't help." A squeal followed as Kyoya's foot jabbed at his ribs, Tamaki almost upended his textbook as he squirmed away.

"My apologies, I didn't manage to catch that. Would you mind repeating it for me?"

Another jab landed solidly, Tamaki proceeded to use his elbow to protect himself from further attacks, which was somewhat obstructed by his maniacal laughter. "I'm sorry! Have mercy, have mercy! I didn't mean it, I swear." And then came the Bambi eyes, liquefied oceans of blue.

If Tamaki were to try, he could dominate the world with just one bat of those baby blues.

The threatening appendage was lowered, returned back to the position of comfort. Tamaki eyed it warily, sticking out his tongue when Kyoya wriggled his toes in warning.

"Be quiet and get back to work." He huffed, finally.

"Why don't you?" Tamaki returned, with every ounce of childishness he could muster.

A roll of his eyes followed, all too fond. "I've already completed my assignments, unlike a certain moron who always leaves them to the last minute."

"A week into the deadline isn't last minute, Kyoya!" The complaint trailed off into a whine which he tuned out, smile tugging harder at the corners of his mouth. His movements were becoming more animated, and the blond narrowly avoided nailing himself in the face a grand total of three times within the space of a minute."- how can you even do so much at once, it's  _not fair._  You must share your wisdom with your best friend, mon ami! It's the law!"

Humming a short cadence, Kyoya observed him seriously. "No, I don't believe it is."

"How can you be so  _cruel?_ " With a pout and an over-dramatic cross of his arms, Tamaki flounced over to the door with the full intention of visiting the bathroom, bemoaning their dying friendship the whole way. He paused when Kyoya's phone erupted into a frenzy of vibrations, head tilted in that quizzical way that reminded Kyoya of a confused puppy.

"It's Honey-senpai." His voice held a note of surprise, and Tamaki sent him a shrug before walking face-first into the door.

Kyoya answered the call still fighting mirth, and Tamaki disappeared, throwing him a mortally wounded expression as he retreated. "Hello?"

By some pure divine intervention, Tamaki managed to  _not_ hear the way Honey practically  _screeched_ down the line. Eardrums almost certainly shattered, Kyoya mentally apologised for the psychic damage nearby innocents would have received. May they rest in peace.

" _Haru-chan is missing!"_

The muscles in his jaw were lax, leaving it hanging open.

In the space of that one second, he could hear everything; the swaying limbs of the trees, used as a launchpad for flight, the blood rushing through his ears and the sound of each steady breath rattling in his chest.

"What."

_"Haru-chan is missing!"_  Honey repeated, flat and choked and all too contained.  _"I've looked everywhere, I can't find her, Kyo-chan! She's gone!"_

The door clicked shut behind him, he hissed as it caught his heels _._ Tamaki was nowhere to be seen, and no blond head came bounding at the call of his name. Abandoning the boy certainly wasn't high on his list of priorities, and considering Tamaki was about 90% of his impulse control, he'd really much prefer his annoying, grounding presence right now. But preventing Haruhi from being murdered and mounted on a wall took precedence.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Kyoya managed to mumble out a strangled, "Where are you?"

And if the Earth hadn't already been knocked off its axis, Honey's reply certainly T-boned it right off course. Because why the everliving  _fuck_ would Honey decide to choose the  _singular goddamn high class cafe that was in Takeda's district._

Of course, there was the simple fact that Honey simply hadn't been aware of this, because Kyoya was dumb as bricks and never bothered to share this information. And now Haruhi was likely with some psychopath because Kyoya  _fucked up_ and thought that Honey could  _actually_ -

He shook his head out, hard, and finally stopped buffering.

"Look. Stay exactly where you are and  _don't move_. I'll track her phone and pick you up en route."

Honey's affirmation was cut short when Kyoya hung up, dialling for Tachibana as he jogged down the hallway, dodging a couple of surprised maids on his way.

The man picked up on the second ring, sounding almost lethargic. " _Mhm? Kyoya?"_

"He's got Haruhi."

On the other end of the line, Tachibana dropped his mug.

.

.

.

* * *

.

.

.

Sweaty palms gripped his thighs tightly. The whites of his knuckles were prominent, muscles tense and aching from the prolonged clenching. In the corner of his eye, he caught Honey shooting him concerned glances, knee bouncing erratically-

_A flash of lifeless eyes and too-pale skin._

-Kyoya forced down a snarl and unbuckled his seatbelt, leaning forward into the front of the car, where Tachibana was watching the house with narrowed eyes. "How long until they arrive?"

"Three minutes or so."

The involuntarily twitch at his face elicited a sympathetic smile from the man.

"Be patient, Kyoya. As frustrating as it is, there's nothing more we can do." The hand that clapped on his shoulder did little to ground him, and when Kyoya rocked backwards into his seat, his navel jerked unpleasantly. As though someone had gripped it with both hands and yanked. Banishing his discomfort, Kyoya folded his hands primly into his lap and focused his attention ahead.

He ended up staring into the middle distance, as though Haruhi would magically be teleported into the empty seat by the sheer force of his gaze alone.

Time slipped by, a confusing waltz of meaningless numbers-

And suddenly, Kyoya found himself with a lapful of compact senior as Honey scrambled across the seat for a better view.

With the backdrop of triumphant trumpets, the Black Onion Squad arrived in all their glory, bursting into the house like an army of Valkyries.

At this point, the small blond had achieved a rather impressive imitation of a suckerfish, face suctioned against the window. Kyoya wasn't quite sure what it accomplished, though he didn't feel qualified enough to complain. Pride was what prevented him from imitating the boy, the itch under his skin morphing from manageable to flat out fire.

Less than five minutes later, a cuffed Takeda was marched out of the house and delivered into the arms of a waiting police officer, who promptly blanched at the sight of the man.

Which was about the time that Kyoya bailed from the car, and only Honey's lightning fast reflexes prevented a nice hug with the ground as he was upended from the lap he had claimed. Rather much like a disgruntled cat, he clawed his way to safety, while Kyoya merely marched onward, a man on a mission.

No one dared to stop him, he ducked through the door with purpose, steel orbs searching-

_There was blood on the floor._

-For any sign of Haruhi.

His world tilted, knocked askew and faded at the edges. Sagging into the nearby wall, Kyoya stared.

Breathed.

An acrid taste at the back of his throat, and his stomach performed several feats of aerial acrobatics, Tachibana hissed a short curse from somewhere just out of sight.

"Kyoya, I think you should-"

His words petered out, fading into the abyss that threatened to swallow him whole. Already bounding up the stairs, Kyoya didn't bother asserting whether or not Tachibana was following him.

Kyoya knew he was.

Along with Honey, grim-faced, wide eyes cataloguing the scene with a wiseness that betrayed his youthful features-

_Hair astray, a red halo surrounding her head._

-Swallowing hard, Kyoya pushed his way forward, ignoring the double-takes and hesitation, because he needed to see, he needed to  _know-_ until he was met with a locked door and silence so saturated with sympathy he could taste it. Words were traded, distant, unimportant; Kyoya forced himself still, tall, the perfect picture of peace.

Eyes flitting, searching. No brown locks and honey-sweet smile appeared-

_Battered and bruised, limbs twisted at awkward angles. Mouth open, spread in one last scream._

Squeezed them shut. Breathed.

_Breathed._

A presence at his side, shifting.

Anxious.

Anxious, but  _strong._  Honey, fists balled at his side. No sweet smiles and Sakura blossoms to be seen, this was a boy who meant business. Chin squared and wholly defiant, just daring anyone to challenge him. Honey, ordering with the kind of sharpness to his sugary voice that could give whiplash.

And Tachibana, in the midst of it all, organising, delegating.

Kyoya breathed.

Set his jaw and lifted his head, because if becoming the Shadow King was what was necessary to get her back, then Kyoya would play the role magnificently.

Which is what he did until a trembling but thankfully still whole Haruhi was extracted from behind her makeshift barricade and stumbled into his arms. Voice barely a whisper, ever so delicate. "Is it over?" Her grip was desperate, legs bowing out and straining under the pressure of standing.

"It will be." Kyoya held her steadfast, unwavering, even as she thrust her face against his shirt and remained there, looking smaller than ever.

Honey's lips quirked up in a small, relieved smile. Kyoya's jaw clenched, he unconsciously pulled her a little closer.

She was breathing more steadily, but had yet to release him, her shirt slipping off at one shoulder, exposing a swath of pale, clammy skin. His fingers deftly caught the material, raised it-

_Set in a blush of faint pink, the mark of teeth stood out like a sore thumb. Mottled blemishes, purple-red in colour, danced up her throat._

-to gently slide the sleeve back into place.

A rock of her body, and then she raised her head, taking a slow step back. Her lips were bruised, red. Beaded with little pinpricks of blood. Quivering slightly, but otherwise maintaining a hard line. And her eyes. Those doe eyes held no light.

There were questions and official proceedings, and enough bullshit to make his head spin, but eventually they were steered back into the car.

Honey had yet to approach her, he clambered into the front seat without a single word. Kyoya and Haruhi took the back, with her staring indolently out of the window the entire time, hand laced with his.

There was a hospital, white walls and disinfectant, bright and clinical and almost impersonal, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Closed doors between them, Honey's foot tapping, Tachibana texting, co-ordinating, leading, and the bitter silence that remained.

He watched the clock. Tracked the movement of the arms, the distinct,  _tick, tick, tick_ ringing in his ears.

And breathed.

His chest felt heavy, clenched. A ton of steel, settled nicely on his ribcage. Each rise and fall carefully timed, strained. Laborious, where it was once simple.

And then the car, again. And she wasn't talking, wouldn't even look at them. His stomach rolled but he left his hand flat on the seat between them, waiting.

Hoping.

They rolled to a stop in the driveway, the mansion unfolding before them.

She didn't move.

Only stared out. Out of the window and into somewhere far beyond.

He caught the tell-tale whiteness of bandages at her ankle. Plasters covered the array of scrapes she'd gained. Blood was meticulously removed. Clothing swapped for something clean. Untainted.

Tachibana cracked the door open, coaxed her attention. He smiled as though nothing was wrong, as though they hadn't found her shivering and terrified, behind a flimsy barricade to protect herself from pure insanity. She blinked, her jaw set, and then stepped out, seatbelt whooshing harshly back into place. Honey flinched, averted his gaze.

Footsteps against polished floors, four sets, each distinct. Honey brought up the rear, Tachibana, the front.

Haruhi had her arms tucked around herself, Kyoya's jacket swamping her frame, zipped up all the way. Hiding the bruises, the red digits around her wrist. Still not speaking, doe eyes hazy and far more helpless than they should ever be.

Kyoya opened his mouth.

No sound came out.

His hands shoved into his pockets.

His lips pursed in a harsh line-

Ranka. Warm and bright and loving, carefully pulling her into a hug, choked breaths that evolved into muffled sobbing. Kyoya's throat tightened at the sound, lip caught between his teeth. Ranka smoothed her hair and soothed her cries, slowly swaying them from side to side.

"Come on. Let's give them some privacy." A hand on his shoulder, Tamaki's sad smile, and they moved out and into the corridor.

He could still hear her crying.

The three of them, him and Tamaki and Honey, ended up in his room.

Silent.

Tense.

Tamaki looked between them, opened his mouth, closed it again.

Finally, he whispered. "What happened to her?"

_Hands, grabbing her, touching her,_ _**hurting her.** _

_And Haruhi, innocent Haruhi trying to fight them, begging, pleading-_

"Takeda." Honey said. Face hooded with shadows, mussed hair falling into his eyes. "He got her. Hurt her."

Tamaki was sunshine, he was goodness and love and kind to a fault. His face dropped, twisted. Confused, upset, a whole spectrum of emotions he couldn't quite identify. "But- but  _how?_  She was with you, Senpai. How could he have just- just taken her?"

A sigh. Deep. Heavy. His head was in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands. "I left her alone." Kyoya's fingers clenched. "It was only meant to be five minutes, just so she could go to the bookstore. I thought it would be okay, Haru-chan just looked so  _sad-_ "

"I imagine she looks miles better now."

Twin eyes snapped to him.

Honey bit his lip, Tamaki frowned.

Eyes downcast, focused on the floor, the small blond continued, voice wobbling slightly. "If I had known- I would have  _never_  left her like that. I just wanted to do something to make her happy. I'd never deliberately hurt her!"

His skin burned. Itched and scorched below the surface- raking his nails up his arms did nothing to quell the flames.

"You did. You did hurt her. Regardless of whether you  _wanted to_  or not, she's hurt because of you."

"Kyoya." Tamaki intoned, warningly.

His gaze pinned on his friend, on the worried scrunch of his brows. Kyoya's chin jutted out, eyes grew hard. Sharp. Ready to cut- to draw  _blood_ \- because he wasn't sunshine and kindness like Tamaki, and mercy to whichever unfortunate soul invited his wrath. " _She's hurt_. And that is on  _him_."

Tamaki protested, because  _of course he did._ And maybe if Kyoya was thinking straight, he would have to. Or if he was even thinking at all, for that matter. "That's not fair. That's not fair and you know it."

"He was supposed to keep her  _safe_ , Tamaki. That? That down there doesn't look safe to me. Does that look safe to you,  _Senpai_?"

"Kyoya!" Tamaki stood up, clapped his hands down on his shoulders. "That's enough. We shouldn't be fighting right now. We need to band together, for Haruhi's sake! She's going to need us more than ever. This isn't going to solve anything. Let's all calm down, okay?"

He shrugged the hands away, more forcefully than he intended. The scoff was bitter, dark, entirely involuntary. There was a small voice in the back of his head, pounding, hammering. Screaming at him to  _just_ _ **shut up.**_ _Just stop talking, god what the hell are you even saying, stopstopstopstop-_  "I trusted him. And Haruhi paid for that mistake. She won't a second time."

Quiet, but firm, Honey met his sharp eyes. "Kyo-chan, I will make it up to her, I promise."

Small. Sad. The twist of his lips was brimming with rage.

"At this point, your promises mean nothing."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay in getting this chapter out. College, exams, life got in the way.  
> I'll try my best to update more regularly from now on.


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